


Balancing the Scales

by Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-01
Updated: 2003-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-19 03:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra%20of%20Yore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth Summers is a rising star in the Boston District Attorney’s Office. The only thorn in her side is her ex-boyfriend, William ‘Spike’ Albrook, P.I. But when Spike is accused of murder, Elizabeth alone rushes to his defense and, in the process, comes to rediscover the fire she left behind in her race to the top.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trials and Tribulations

“ _Mister_ Albrook,” Elizabeth Summers rose from her seat in a graceful, fluid motion. The tone she gave to the title was just enough to make the jury wonder whether the witness on the stand truly deserved it.

She walked toward the witness stand in a casual manner, polished black heels clicking on the courtroom tile. Hours had been spent making sure the business suit she wore looked both attractive and conservative, and her shoulder-length blonde hair was tied back in a tight, professional-looking bun. In short, Elizabeth knew how important appearance was to making the right impression, and she was consistently beloved by juries for her striking looks and confident demeanor.

“Or…should I call you ‘Spike’?” she read from the folder in her hand, brow slightly furrowed as if she’d never noticed this disturbing little piece of information before.

The man on the stand leaned forward in a seductive stance, smirk already firmly in place. “You can call me whatever you want, luv,” he said in a low purr, his soft British accent sending tingles down the spines of all who heard it.

Juror Number Five bit back a snort of laughter.

Elizabeth merely looked up at him critically, eyeing his bleached white hair and scarred brow and obviously finding him lacking. “You aren’t called ‘Spike’, then?” she inquired pointedly.

“’m called a lot of things,” he provided unhelpfully.

Jurors Number Five and Two both looked amused now.

Elizabeth decided it was prudent to move on. “You’re a private investigator, isn’t that right, _Mister_ Albrook?” she inquired.

“Somethin’ like that,” he agreed, sitting back comfortably and intentionally watching her legs.

“Your Honor,” Elizabeth protested, “permission to treat this witness as hostile.”

Judge Peterson watched, unimpressed, as Spike licked his lips and followed the curve of Elizabeth’s ass intently with molten blue eyes. “Permission granted. The witness will answer the prosecution’s questions _seriously_ ,” Judge Peterson sent a scathing look Spike’s way.

He gave her a disinterested shrug in response.

Elizabeth stepped up closer to the podium when she continued so he had no choice but to direct his gaze towards her face. “And, on the night of the sixteenth, that was why you were parked outside the defendant’s apartment building?” she continued with her line of questioning.

“Yeah,” he nodded, cocky demeanor receding slightly.

“And what exactly had you been hired to do that night?” she pressed.

“Just watch Mister Trick there, and follow him if he left,” he said simply.

“I see.” Elizabeth stepped back away from the podium and took two paces, creating a short, dramatic pause. “So you were watching Mister Trick’s building non-stop from seven o’clock on the evening of the sixteenth until nine o’clock on the morning of the seventeenth, is that your testimony?”

“Right as rain, luv,” he agreed with a lazy, seductive smile in Juror Number Three’s direction. She blushed slightly in response.

“That’s fourteen hours straight?”

“Sounds ‘bout right.”

“And never once, that entire night, did you maybe…drowse off?” Elizabeth suggested.

“No.” Fiery blue eyes were narrowed to steely points now that the true drilling began.

“You never left your car once?”

“No,” he insisted vehemently.

“Not _once_?”

“What can I say, luv, ‘ve got a lot of… _stamina_ …” He replied in a breathless whisper.

Elizabeth acted as though she hadn’t even heard the innuendo. “Maybe to get something to drink from the café on the corner? It was open all night.”

“No,” he repeated.

“To use the payphone?”

“Objection.” The defense attorney rose with the overly-offended manner necessary for all objections. “Asked and answered.”

“Objection sustained,” Judge Peterson ruled. “Move on, Ms. Summers.”

Elizabeth nodded, not shaken in the slightest. “Where was the defendant’s car parked that night?” she questioned.

“Out in back,” Spike supplied readily enough. “There’s a lot off the alley.”

“And could you see his car?”

Spike’s eyes narrowed at that, and a muscle in his cheek twitched. “No,” he conceded reluctantly.

“How long do you think it would take the defendant to have gotten from his second floor apartment, down the stairs, and around back to his car where you wouldn’t be able to see him?” she demanded.

“Objection!” The defense attorney was up in arms again. “Mister Albrook never climbed those stairs. He has no way of knowing—”

“He watched the building for fourteen hours straight,” Elizabeth cut in just as vehemently. “He should be able to make a conservative estimate…if he was really there…”

“And now the prosecution’s testifying!” the defense protested.

“Quite right,” Judge Peterson agreed. “Ms. Summers, that last comment was out of line. However, the witness should be qualified to give a rough estimate. Answer the question, Mister Albrook.”

Spike shrugged and scratched at his scarred eyebrow. “Five minutes?” he suggested. “Tops.”

“So, then,” Elizabeth was back on track now, “if, in that entire fourteen hour period, you looked away even once for five minutes, the defendant could have exited the building, gotten to his car, and driven off without your knowledge?”

“ _If_ —”

“Just answer the question, Mister Albrook,” Elizabeth insisted.

“’S possible,” he conceded with a roll of his eyes, “ _if_ I looked away. I din’t.”

“You had a cell phone with you in the car?”

“Yeah.”

“And you received…three calls from your office during your stakeout?”

“Yeah.”

“One of which was nearly fifteen minutes long.”

“Kept my eye on the buildin’ the entire time,” Spike insisted stubbornly.

“I see.” A sly smile crossed Elizabeth’s lips, and she intentionally let her bra-strap slip down her shoulder beneath the summer blouse she was wearing, exposing a bit more of her flesh than was entirely proper. A glint of triumph lit up in her eyes when the motion caught Spike’s gaze, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, watching the silken fabric slide sensuously against her skin. “You’ve been a private detective for how long?”

“Just over six years,” he replied gruffly, fighting back a groan at the memory of that soft skin in his palm, her warm body beneath him, surrounding him as they…

“So, you must be pretty good at it by now, huh?” She gave him a flirtatious little smile.

He instantly knew something was up. “’ve known worse.”

“I’ll bet you have,” Elizabeth agreed teasingly. “And your job is to observe, am I right?”

“In part.” Her perfume seemed overwhelming to him at that moment, the fragrant scent of vanilla bringing him back to the first time he’d glimpsed perfection…

“So, I bet you can tell me which door the Executive Assistant District Attorney just left through, can’t you?” she asked with false sweetness.

He snorted. He knew this had been some sort of set-up. “I wasn’t hired to watch your boss,” he insisted.

“No,” she agreed, “but you’re still sticking by your story that you couldn’t _possibly_ have been distracted, even for a few minutes?”

“Not unless you’re admittin’ you having done a li’l striptease act in my car,” he retorted with a lascivious leer.

“Your Honor—!”

“Quite, Ms. Summers,” Judge Peterson agreed. “One more comment like that, and I’ll find you in contempt,” she warned Spike with a glare.

“Just pointin’ out the obvious logical flaw in the question,” he insisted defensively. “Oh, and he went through the back.”

Elizabeth seethed inwardly at that but forced herself to maintain all outward cool. “Who hired you to watch the defendant that night?” she snapped.

“’m bound not to reveal the name of my employer,” he retorted.

“Isn’t it true that Alan Fitch hired you? A known mob associate who once hired Mister Trick to commit murder?” she shot out.

“Objection, Your Honor!” the defense exclaimed.

“I’ll beat you to it,” Judge Peterson gave Elizabeth a harsh glare. “The witness’ client has a right to confidentially,” she said sternly, “and all criminal acts not in evidence are completely irrelevant to this case. The jury will disregard. Now, Ms. Summers, if you don’t have anything else for this witness…?”

“Not at this time, Your Honor,” Elizabeth conceded her momentary defeat and sat back down next to where Robin Wood had just returned.

“The witness can step down, then,” Judge Peterson announced. “And, given the hour, court is adjourned for the day. We will resume at nine o’clock Monday morning.” The gavel resounded throughout the courtroom, and half the staff had already packed their bags.

Elizabeth stuffed several manila file folders into her briefcase a bit more angrily than usual, only to freeze when she felt a hand come to rest in the small of her back.

“Nice try, luv,” Spike purred in her ear, leaning in dangerously close.

“Juries don’t buy clown acts,” she informed him primly, refusing to back down as she turned to face him. The end result was that they were nose to nose, their own bodies’ gravity in danger of pulling them together through that final gap between them and…

“You’re barkin’ up the wrong tree, pet,” he assured her, one hand reaching forward to brush aside one lock of blonde hair that had escaped her bun. “Our friend over there din’t leave ‘is apartment once.”

“We’ll see about that,” Elizabeth said stiffly, fighting the urge to react to his soft touch.

“Elizabeth.” Robin Wood was a tall, commanding presence of a man. Strong, handsome African features gave way to a pair of chocolate brown eyes that seemed to see right into souls. However, as the Executive Assistant District Attorney shoved himself pointedly between Spike and Elizabeth, he found himself pitted against no less charismatic a presence. Dark eyes met angry blue for one second before Spike gave way, and Wood succeeded in pushing the other man back out into the aisle. “We need to get back to the office and go over our witness preps,” Wood reminded Elizabeth.

“Right,” she agreed, turning pointedly away from Spike and following Wood out. “I’d say it’s been fun, William, but…” she trailed off pointedly.

“Oh, you know you loved it, _Buffy_ ,” he countered, watching after her sashaying hips hungrily.

She froze for one instant at the name but then shook it off and escaped from the crowded courtroom. She and Wood were greeted by the usual chaos outside but managed to make their way over to the two familiar police detectives near the entrance.

“Finn, Gates,” Wood acknowledged as they approached. “We having any problems I should know about?”

Riley Finn, a tall, broad-shouldered cop with sandy blonde hair, shook his head negative. “Just checking up on our collar,” he offered.

Wood nodded and casually turned away from the bustle of the crowded hallway so that no one outside their little group could catch his words. “It looks like Worth’s going to testify on Tuesday.”

Forrest Gates, Riley’s street-smart partner, nodded. “We’ll have him here, death threats or no,” he assured Wood.

Wood gave him a curt nod of approval.

Riley watched with eyes narrowed as Spike finally exited the courtroom. “He just blew our shot at proving opportunity, didn’t he?” he said angrily.

Elizabeth gave him a reassuring smile. “There was definite reasonable doubt there,” she assured him. “You get us our witness, and the case is in the bag.”

Riley nodded grimly. “This is the only charge we’ve managed to stick on Trick in five years…” he began.

“And we won’t let him go,” Wood assured him. “Just make sure Worth’s here bright and early on Tuesday morning.”

Riley gave him one final nod before he and Forrest vanished back into the throng of court workers escaping for the night.

Elizabeth sighed. “There was reasonable doubt, right?” she asked hopefully.

“Oh yeah,” Wood assured her with a kind smile. “Albrook made a royal ass of himself. The jurors might’ve been amused, but they weren’t convinced.”

“It feels like I’m the one who got made an ass of,” Elizabeth countered, gratefully stepping out into the cool October air. When the halls of justice were crowded like that, it could get unbearably hot in just a few minutes.

“Nah,” Wood assured her. “You made all the right calls. It’s not your fault he wasn’t dumb enough to fall for our trap.”

Elizabeth flashed him a grateful smile and lolled her head around on her stiff neck.

“Only a dozen briefs tonight,” Wood teased, “and then we get to relax to the sound of drunken judges arguing.”

Elizabeth laughed at the joke and preceded him into the District Attorney’s offices…

* * *

The event Wood had referred to was, of course, the Annual Bar Gala, held this year at the Museum of Fine Arts. For one night, one of the large central halls was cleared, and soft chamber music, fine tables with fine silverware, and plenty of food and wine were set up for the elite of the elite.

Elizabeth walked in on Wood’s arm with a bright smile and a sleek emerald evening gown that she knew was the envy of every lawyer’s wife in the room. She caught the eye of Rupert Giles, her mentor from Harvard Law, and managed a quick wave before Wood steered her towards a central round table where several of the other young stars of Boston’s criminal attorney’s office were already seated. The defense lawyer Elizabeth had argued with just that afternoon gave her a broad grin and handed off two glasses of champagne to the two district attorneys, and they quickly settled themselves down for pre-dinner small talk.

“So,” Willow Rosenberg, environmental lawyer and Elizabeth’s best friend and roommate from Harvard, began, leaning forward on her elbows, “is this some latest gossip I should know about?” She gestured to where Elizabeth’s hand was curled around Wood’s wrist.

“‘Latest’?” Wood raised a skeptical eyebrow and looked to Elizabeth.

“Robin and I have come together for three years now,” Elizabeth concurred with a sip of her champagne.

“Uh-huh.” Willow looked unconvinced. “’Cause I’ve heard some suspicious rumors down at the DA’s office about you two.”

“Rumors?” Wood affected a mock-innocent look.

“Us?” Elizabeth played along with his act with a laugh.

Willow pouted, her shoulder-length red hair falling forward and she sat back with an audible huff. “Isn’t there some law about keeping this stuff from your roommate?” she teased Elizabeth.

“Penal Code 403 Section D,” Elizabeth joked back. She turned at the tap on her shoulder and smiled to see that Giles was behind her.

“One dance for the old, decrepit man?” he joked lightly, his eyes shinning with merriment.

Elizabeth laughed and took his hand, but not before turning back for one last comment to Willow. “Call me tonight after the party, and we can girl-talk like old times,” she teased.

Willow instantly gave Wood a predatory look, and he laughed and held his hands up in defeat.

“Shall we?” Elizabeth said to Giles in a mock-formal voice, slipping into a loose dance with her surrogate father.

“You look well,” Giles commented, affection slipping through his normal stuffy accent. His thin wire-rim glasses were perched dangerously low on his nose as always, but the lines of his smile held them in place.

“And, given that I’m seconding the Trick case, that’s saying something,” Elizabeth agreed. “I haven’t had a full night’s sleep all month.”

“A lot of work, I’m sure,” Giles agreed, “but congratulations on your promotion.”

Elizabeth blushed. “I owe it all that overbearing slave-driver I interned with,” she teased.

Giles laughed. “It’s always the same. You children call me an ogre until you get out in field and discover that I’ve been lenient on you.”

“Ah, for the days when I only had to work half-days on weekends,” Elizabeth agreed.

“Cordelia said the same thing to me when she called last week,” Giles confirmed.

“Cordy?” Elizabeth inquired. “How’s she doing over in LA, anyway?”

“She informed me that I should tell you and Willow that she had dinner with Brad Pitt and his agent back in June, and that you should both be horribly jealous.”

Elizabeth let out a little gasp of protest. “Bitch,” she concluded.

Giles laughed at that before turning matters to a somewhat more delicate topic. “I heard you encountered William in the Trick case,” he pressed lightly.

Elizabeth stiffened for an instant before nodding. “Yeah,” she agreed.

“How is he?” Giles asked, genuinely interested in his former student.

Elizabeth sighed. “Fine, I guess. I don’t know. We don’t exactly…” Another sigh. “You know.”

Giles nodded soberly. “The last I saw him was in the hospital after that bar fight.”

“Well, his eye’s not gushing blood anymore,” Elizabeth tried to make light of the situation. “He got himself a nasty scar, though.”

Giles let out a wistful sigh. “I do hope he is well,” he agreed. “It always seemed a great shame to me that you kids…”

Elizabeth smiled softly as well. “Yeah,” she agreed, thinking back on her Harvard Law days…

* * *

 _“Our goal is to be ready for trial in two weeks,” Giles informed the handful of students he’d chosen as assistants. “This is a very tight schedule, and I will expect you all to do whatever I, or any of the other members of the firm, tell you to. Now…Rosenberg and Chase? You two will be responsible for searching through Roy Auto’s expense reports and double-checking everything against their tax returns.”_

 _He dropped a huge stack of papers in front of Willow and Cordelia, and the two women grimaced at the work ahead of them._

 _“Albrook and Summers? You two will look up precedents on Motion Five that Mister Carleton was so kind to impose upon us yesterday. We have to be ready to argue before Judge Simmonds on Tuesday.”_

 _He plopped copies of the motion in front of Buffy and the shy, young man that sat at the back of the room, away from everyone else._

 _“The rest of you will work with the office staff in generating the exhibits we’ll need for our preliminary case presentation on the 15th. Any questions?” Of course, there were none. Yet. “Then, get to work.”_

 _The room vacated more efficiently than any fire alarm at Giles’ order, leaving only the four law students with special assignments behind._

 _Cordelia turned to Buffy and grimaced. “Guess we won’t be seeing each other for the next week,” she said apologetically._

 _“Yeah, and we thought it’d be great that we all got in at the same firm,” Willow agreed. She gave Buffy a guilty little smile, sorry that her friend was the odd man out._

 _Buffy put on a big smile for show, but she did feel left out. “That’s the business,” she decided. “All work and no play…”_

 _“And it’ll be_ all _work since you’re paired up with the nerd,” Cordelia mumbled under her breath so that the man in back being discussed couldn’t hear._

 _“Be nice,” Willow hissed, whapping Cordelia on the arm. “Well, we’ve got to grab some files from the office so…”_

 _“Until we’re all work-free,” Buffy waved, watching her friends go with a sigh. She then turned to her partner in this hellish exercise._

 _She’d never really paid much attention to the quietest member of their class. He always sat in the back row, he never talked to anyone, and the only time he ever spoke was to answer some obscure question that no one else in the class had the slightest clue about. As a result, he’d gotten a reputation for being one of those socially dysfunctional geniuses. It certainly didn’t help that he wore all tweed all the time, had the geekiest pair of glasses imaginable, and let his brown hair poof up in the most ridiculous way._

 _Nevertheless, this was their job, and Buffy was going to damn well do it right. “Hi,” she said, offering him her hand, “I don’t think we’ve talked before. I’m Buffy Summers.”_

 _The hand that took hers was large and strong and warm. “William Albrook,” he agreed in a softly accented British voice._

 _Their eyes met then, and Buffy felt her breath catch in her throat as something just…clicked. Never, ever had she seen such an amazing shade of blue in all her life. She was suddenly aware of the strikingly handsome features that lay behind the glasses and bad hair, and the powerful, lean build beneath all that tweed. Her face flushed slightly as she felt herself drowning in the twin pools of blue, and she nervously managed to stammer out._

 _“U-Uh, so shall we get off?” She winced at the slip. “I mean, get going?”_

* * *

The song came to an end, and Giles left Elizabeth to return to her friends with a parting comment that she should call more often.

Elizabeth returned to her table to find Wood had take to dancing with Faith Vlore, the world’s nastiest opponent to have in all the Massachusetts court system. Apparently, Faith was offering Wood a conciliatory dance after the way she’d smote him back when they had tried to prosecute Missus Anders for killing her husband.

“My date’s run off, huh?” she commented lightly, turning back to where Willow was sipping her champagne contentedly.

“Jealous?” Willow pried.

Elizabeth shrugged. “Robin’s a really nice guy,” she said simply.

“And…?” Willow pressed.

A sigh. “A little sparkage, maybe,” she agreed. “And it has been pointed out to me that dating a minority would put me in good standing should I ever run for office…”

“Do I sense a touch of Hank Summers?” Willow teased.

“Dear old dad,” Elizabeth agreed with a roll of her eyes. “I’m almost hesitant to date Robin just because dad would be such a conservative prick about it.”

Willow smiled knowingly. “Or you’re using that as a convenient excuse because you’re not really interested in being more than just friends.”

Elizabeth laughed. “See? This is why you were top of our class.”

Willow grinned as well. “Well, it doesn’t take a genius to notice that you haven’t really taken to any guy since…” She trailed off abruptly at her _faux pas_. “Sorry,” she apologized with a wince.

“You can say his name,” Elizabeth insisted. “It’s not like I’ll freak out—”

At that moment, their conversation was cut short when the cell phone Wood had left at the table rang. Elizabeth quickly searched the crowd for him but came up empty and, shrugging, answered in his stead. “Hello?”

“Where’s Robin?”

Elizabeth recognized the agitated voice of Amanda, the office secretary. “He’ll be back in a minute,” she replied.

“You don’t understand,” Amanda insisted. “This is _urgent_. I need to…” She paused when she belatedly recognized the voice on the other end. “Elizabeth, is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Elizabeth agreed, concerned now. “What’s happened?”

Amanda took in a gasping breath. “It’s terrible, Elizabeth,” she said. “Mister Worth? Th-They got to him.”

Elizabeth’s face turned pale. “G-Got to him?” she repeated in disbelief. “You mean he’s dead?”

Amanda nodded before realizing that Elizabeth couldn’t see her. “Shot dead,” she agreed.

Elizabeth rested her head in her hand with a groan. “What happened?” she asked wearily.

“The police caught the killer,” Amanda assured her quickly. “He’s being held at the station.”

“Well, at least that’s something,” Elizabeth said, fighting back the pain in her heart that their attempts to protect their witness had failed and forcing herself to do something about it. “Robin and I will be right there. What’s the killer’s name?”

“William Albrook.”

And Elizabeth belatedly heard the sound of a champagne glass shattering as it fell to the floor, the horror of what she’d just heard making the rest of the world seem to shrink back in space and time. “N-No…” she uttered shakily before the phone fell from her hand…


	2. Loyalty

“Elizabeth,” Riley said with a weary smile as she burst into the squad room still dressed in the elegant eveningwear from the ball, “yeah, I know we blew it, but at least we got the guy who—”

“Where is he?” Elizabeth ran a hand through her now-disheveled hair, her mind narrowed down to pinpoint focus. Really, it was a wonder she hadn’t had an accident on the frantic drive here.

“We’ve got him in interrogation room two,” Riley provided, “but he’s as good as convicted. We’ve got the gun with his prints, in his car. And he was hovering over the corpse when we—”

“In a second.” Elizabeth held up one hand for silence, continuing to wind herself through the assortment of desks and over to the necessary room.

Riley chased after her, somewhat surprised by her determination. “It’s still salvageable, though,” he quickly defended himself. “If Spike’s working for Wilkins, then it shoots his credibility to hell in the Trick—”

Elizabeth came to an abrupt halt outside the interrogation room and breathed a deep sigh of relief to see Spike, safe and sound and looking very dejected, in the chair of the cold concrete room. Some irrational voice in the back of her head had only heard that he had been involved in a shooting and had refused to let her mind relax until she finally saw him alive and well. The violent pounding of her heart slowed from its deafening cacophony, and she finally first registered Riley’s presence fully.

“He’s cuffed,” she said simply.

“He is considered dangerous,” Riley pointed out.

Elizabeth shook her head. “He’s not dangerous,” she insisted. “I need to talk to him.”

“He asked for a lawyer,” Riley provided. “It could be a while before we can get a public defender in, and—”

“I need to talk to him.” Elizabeth’s tone brooked no argument.

Riley let her into the small interrogation room and, after a pointed look, removed Spike’s handcuffs.

Spike looked up at that and noticed Elizabeth for the first time, the hints of a pleading look forming deep in his eyes.

“Leave us,” Elizabeth instructed Riley.

He scratched his head hesitantly. “I’m not sure if that’s such a—” he began.

“This is a privileged consultation,” Elizabeth informed him primly. “Mister Albrook has a right to privacy.”

Riley looked confused at that. “Miranda—”

“Only applies to agents of the justice system,” Elizabeth concluded. “And, as of now, I am not acting as such.”

“Then, why…?” Riley shook his head at her stubborn look. “Where’s Wood?” he asked pointedly.

“No clue. Now, if you’ll leave us…”

Riley didn’t look convinced, but he shrugged it off and shut the door behind him.

Elizabeth breathed a slow sigh of relief and turned back to Spike. “How are you doing?” she asked softly, a regretful smile on her face.

“Been better.” He seemed to relax now that they were alone, some instinctive knowledge telling him that the danger had passed…for now.

Elizabeth pulled up a chair so that she could sit beside him. She tentatively reached out for his hand and gave him an affectionate smile when he didn’t pull away. “Tell me about it?” she requested softly, her free hand venturing to cup his cheek.

And, as if a dam had suddenly burst, Elizabeth suddenly found herself cradling a frightened Spike in her arms, cooing soft promises as his tears stained the silk of her dress. She didn’t mind, though. Nothing mattered at that moment except clearing up this horrible misunderstanding.

“I din’t do it,” he murmured repeatedly against the comforting warmth of her breast. “It wasn’t me, Buffy. You’ve got to believe me…”

“Shh,” she whispered softly, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the spectacle they must be making to those stationed outside the one-way glass. “I believe you. I never doubted even for a second.” As if in defiance to those outside, she gently stroked his platinum hair, noticing that even though the locks were bleached now they were still every bit as soft as she had remembered.

He slowly calmed down at her words and finally pulled away from her warm embrace, embarrassed at his own actions. He wiped frantically at his tear-stained cheeks and looked pointedly anywhere but at her. For a brief instant, his eyes alighted on the mirror on the wall, and he knew his emotional outbreak had been witnessed by all.

“And now you think ‘m a complete wanker,” he attempted to joke lightly. His heart wasn’t in it, though.

Elizabeth kept her grip on his hand and smiled at him anyway. “I can’t imagine I’d take to being accused of murder any better,” she assured him.

“Yeah…” He let out a weary sigh. “’m being railroaded, luv,” he provided.

She nodded. “I kinda heard… I wasn’t paying too much attention, though. I had to see you.”

“And you have no idea how much the friendly face is ‘ppreciated.” He managed a tight-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah, well, you know I’m always here. We’re in this together…” She trailed off and bit her lip nervously.

He nodded. “Seem to recall you tellin’ me that once…”

* * *

 _Buffy yawned and padded over to the door, running her fingers through sleep-tousled hair as she did so. The buzzer to her and Willow’s door rang again just as she reached it. “Yeah, yeah, hold your horses, I’m co—” She froze in mid-syllable when she opened the door and saw who was on the other side of it. Her cheeks tinged slightly pink, and she quickly moved to straighten her hair. “Oh, um…hi, William. What’s up?”_

 _William looked a bit embarrassed that he’d obviously caught her sleeping and ducked his head in that shy manner that was almost permanent. “I-It’s Giles,” he said nervously. “He wants to see us right away about that brief, and…” He trailed off, eyes looking anywhere but at the pointed nipples beneath her gray sleep shirt and the long, tanned legs revealed by her cutoff shorts. Inwardly, he cursed himself for his reaction. A beautiful woman like Buffy could never see anything in a nerd like him. She was popular and pretty and could have any guy she wanted._

 _“Now?” Buffy’s eyes widened in alarm. “Uh-oh, what did we do?”_

 _William shook his head. “Didn’t say. Just that we were supposed to…er, get down to his office yesterday.” His distraction was caused by the fact that Buffy had just turned around to let him into the small apartment. One of the legs of her shorts had a tear up the back that just barely exposed a hint of black lace. He shut his eyes tight as he entered the apartment and willed himself to remain in control._

 _“I’ll just get dressed,” Buffy offered, still blushing slightly. She bit her lip in disappointment when it appeared he had been too busy looking around the room to notice the extra little sashay she’d put in her step. Inwardly, she cursed herself. He was the quiet, studious type. He probably just thought of her as a flaky, vapid blonde, and she didn’t know what to do about it. All her tricks for picking up popular guys just seemed to be falling flat on him._

 _“Oh, er, right.” William blushed even harder and stared at the coffee table like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen._

 _Buffy vanished into her bedroom. “How’d you find me here?” she asked hopefully. After all, looking a girl up was a definite sign of interest._

 _“I checked the law library. Your roommate was there,” he responded. Hell, like he was going to tell her that he’d known all about her ever since she’d plopped down in the seat in front of him in his Legal Ethics class._

 _“Oh.” Buffy tried to hide the disappointment in her voice. Yeah, of course, he’d know Willow. She was the academic type, just like him. Hell, if Willow weren’t gay, the two of them would probably be a match made in heaven._

 _William sat down awkwardly on the threadbare couch and tried his hardest not to dwell on the fact that Buffy was quite probably naked in the other room. “Yeah. So, um, you ready?”_

 _Buffy blushed when she realized her fingers had come to linger on one taut nipple as she listened to the sound of his voice, and she hastily raced to slip her bra and blouse on. “Just another minute!” she assured him, slipping into the pants that accompanied the suit._

 _She checked in the mirror, frowned, and yanked the pants and blouse back off, choosing a lower neckline and a short, professional skirt instead. She hopped back in front of the mirror in anticipation, decided she looked thoroughly lickable, and ran her brush through her hair one last time for good measure._

 _William frowned and checked his watch. What could possibly be taking her ten minutes? The image of her lithe, naked body strutting around in the other room popped quickly to mind, and he had to consciously force back the blood that was running south at the thought. “She’s just a casual acquaintance,” he mumbled his latest mantra to himself. “She has no interest in you outside of work…”_

 _“Did you say something?” Buffy frowned as she tried to pick up the muffled sounds._

 _William’s face instantly flamed a deep red. “N-No,” he insisted a bit too hastily, moving to rap on the bedroom door. “Are you almost done because—” He was cut off dead in mid-sentence when the door opened, revealing the most beautiful vision he had ever laid eyes on. His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he gulped and forced himself to breathe. “U-Uh, we should go.”_

 _“Right,” Buffy agreed with a little sigh. Would a comment on how nice she looked have been out of the question? Just some little hint that he’d noticed…_

 _William held the door open for her, and they stepped out into the crisp, spring afternoon. With no clue what to do with his hands, he stuffed his sweating palms into the pockets of his tweed jacket and tried to look natural while walking beside the most beautiful woman he’d ever met._

 _Buffy was equally nervous, but instead of trying to act inconspicuous, she turned to her own defense mechanism: babbling. “So, what do you think this could possibly be about? Because we sooo had that brief turned in on time, and I thought we did a good job with the research. And Giles even said Carleton’s motion would probably stand anyway, so he can’t really blame us, can he? I mean, we’re just second-year students and… We’re just learning this stuff!”_

 _“Calm down, luv.” Before William had even had a chance to think about what he was doing, his hand came to rest in a comforting manner on her shoulder._

 _She turned wide hazel eyes to look at him at that, and he instantly blushed and withdrew his hand. Buffy was torn whether to be disappointed at the loss of touch or elated at the tingles that still lingered from where his hand had warmed her shoulder._

 _“I-I just mean,” William hastily began scrambling for words as well, “he knows we’re not pros yet, so even if we did bugger it all up, he’ll just tell us how to better in the future. I mean…” He trailed off, embarrassed. “If that makes any sense,” he finally finished in a mumble._

 _“Yeah,” she looked up at him with a soft smile, “that makes a lot of sense.” It was the most he had ever said to her since they’d started working together. Usually he was strictly business, despite her subtle attempts to draw him out. But this more open William…this was nice._

 _They stood frozen on the pavement for a minute, lost in each other’s eyes, before William reluctantly turned away. “Giles’ll be pissed if we’re late,” he pointed out._

 _“Right,” Buffy agreed, taking her place at his side once more. “You know,” she began hesitantly, “that’s actually a pretty good philosophy.”_

 _“Y-You think so?” he replied._

 _“We hapless law students have to stick by each other,” she agreed. “We’ve got all this pressure on us and…” She took a deep breath. “What do you say we make a pact?”_

 _“A pact?” William inquired curiously._

 _“I stand by everything you did, and you stand by everything I did. ‘Cause, y’know, we pretty much did everything equally and…” She trailed off with a blush. While her efforts to chat William up may have failed, it was uncanny how fluidly they worked together. One of them would start an idea, and the other would finish it off. Whenever one got caught up on a detail, the other had the solution. Working together, she was quite positive there wasn’t any corner they couldn’t argue their way out off. It was…exhilarating. If only it would carry on to other matters as well…_

 _“Perfectly equal.” He agreed to that with a shy smile._

 _“So, we go in there with a united front. We’re in this together, right?” Buffy decided, shoulders squared._

 _“Right.”_

 _There was a determined gleam in his eyes that Buffy found sexier than anything she’d ever seen before. “Shake?” she offered her hand._

 _He shook it. They walked into Giles’ office, and…_

 _“I didn’t even believe it possible,” Giles said with a wide smile. “Congratulations.” He took the hands of each of his stunned interns, in turn, and shook them vigorously._

 _“Uh…” Buffy began slowly, confused because they’d been all geared up to face a good yelling. “Huh?”_

 _“Your work on Motion Five,” Giles explained patiently. “We got it denied. I really didn’t think there was much of a chance, but…whose idea was it to use the Turner Case?”_

 _William and Buffy exchanged a look. “We both came up with it,” William finally said sheepishly._

 _Buffy couldn’t help but smile at that. Technically, he’d pointed out the significance of that case at first, but… Well, she had been the one to fit it into their argument._

 _“You two make an excellent team,” Giles concluded. “I trust you would not be adverse to taking on another project?”_

 _Hope flared in both Buffy and William’s hearts. Both had been feeling a bit glum lately, since their excuse to work in close proximity was now gone._

 _“Not at all,” Buffy assured him with a bright smile._

 _William merely nodded._

 _“Excellent,” Giles concluded. “Now, I’d like to two of you to go through the witness interviews for—”_

 _“Witness interviews?” William repeated in disbelief. “Don’t you want someone with more experience to handle that?”_

 _Giles merely shook his head. “How else does one get the experience?” he countered. “I have full faith that the two of you will be able to handle it.” He shoved a stack of folders their way. “You have a week,” he announced._

 _Buffy and William both nodded and quickly picked up the pile of work._

 _“Nice work, once more,” Giles said cheerily to their retreating backs. The door to his office swung shut._

 _And Buffy and William both groaned. “Well, there goes the weekend,” Buffy said with an apologetic sigh._

 _“Perhaps we should try to be more mediocre in the future?” William suggested with a completely straight face._

 _Buffy giggled. She’d only gotten rare glimpses of his quirky – and somewhat sarcastic – sense of humor, but they always delighted her. “Still,” she let out a weary sigh and a yawn, “there goes my social life…”_

 _William looked down at the polished toes of his shoes. “It’s Friday,” he pointed out. “No reason not to have some fun tonight. We’ve got plenty of time to worry about everything else on Saturday.”_

 _Buffy blinked up at him in surprise. “Are you asking me out?” she asked hopefully._

 _William instantly froze like a deer caught in the headlights. His original thought had actually entailed her going out with all her friends and painting the town red, while he sat alone in his apartment moping around like a wanker. “Uh…well, I mean…don’t know why you’d want me along…” he began, horribly embarrassed._

 _“We’re in this together,” she reminded him of their earlier pledge. “That means for the celebration, too.”_

 _“Er, uh, great.” He managed a shy smile._

 _“So, why don’t we drop this stuff off in the law library,” she gestured to the stacks of folders they were both carrying, “and then you can stop back by my apartment around eight?”_

 _“Sure. Sounds good.”_

 _Inwardly, Buffy was ecstatic beyond words._ He actually asked me out!

 _And, inwardly, William was cheering just as wildly._ She actually asked _me_ out…

* * *

Elizabeth took Spike’s hand. “We’re in this together,” she repeated the words from years ago. “No matter what, remember?”

He shook his head. “You’re not a part of this,” he insisted. “Got myself into this mess all by my lonesome and—”

“William?” Elizabeth said with a falsely sweet smile.

“Yes, _Buffy_?” he shot back, a hint of the old fire in his eyes.

“Shut up and stop being ridiculous,” she instructed. “You honestly think I’m just going to stand by and watch them pin this murder on you?”

He sulked and grumbled and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“Now, tell me what happened,” she demanded.

He let out a bark of laughter at that. “May not’ve actually graduated, luv, but ‘m not about to provide fodder for the DA to convict me.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I’m representing you, stupid,” she shot back.

He balked at that, jaw dropping in surprise. “Don’t need you to defend me,” he insisted sullenly. “Can take perfectly good care of myself.”

“Again with the being ridiculous!” Elizabeth exclaimed in annoyance. “The police have a murder weapon; they say your prints are on it. You think a public defender’s going to get you off? Or maybe your dad will step in to help?” It was a low blow, and she knew it.

Spike instantly tensed and sent a scowl in her direction. “Don’t need your help,” he insisted, but even he knew it was a lie.

Elizabeth merely sighed. “Will you just tell me what happened?” she requested.

A moment of silence. “This won’t bugger up that cushy job ‘f yours?” he asked, concerned.

“Let me worry about that,” she assured him.

He sighed and nodded. “Got an anonymous tip around nine,” he began. “Was checkin’ through old police reports at the time, but Harm called me on the cell.”

“‘Harm’?” Elizabeth questioned.

“My annoyin’ secretary,” he explained. “Said there was this guy down on 59th – a Harold Worth – who had some information on the Trick case.”

“Did you know that Mr. Worth was one of our witnesses against Trick?” Elizabeth asked pointedly.

He cast her an irritated look. “No, I bloody well didn’t,” he countered. “Think I would’ve meddled with a prosecution witness if ‘d known?”

Elizabeth just took a deep breath and nodded. “Continue.”

“Right,” he agreed, “so I get to the building, buzz, and no one answers. So I try the other apartments. Teenage kid up on the fourth floor finally buzzes me in, thinkin’ ‘m the deliveryman. I go up to Worth’s apartment, door’s open. I ask if he’s there, no answer, I go in. I see the body in the kitchen and run over to it. Just as ‘m leaning down to check if he’s still alive, half the Boston PD rushes in and tells me I’m under arrest.”

Elizabeth frowned. “How long were you in the apartment before they arrived?”

“A minute, tops,” he replied.

“And did the kid say he thought you were delivery?” she pressed.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Said to bring the pizza right up ‘cause he’d blown out his knee and couldn’t take the stairs.”

Elizabeth frowned and circled the note in her pad. “That’s interesting,” she agreed. “What about the gun?”

Spike snorted. “What about it?”

“Did you touch it?” she demanded, giving him a scathing look. “Pick it up?”

“’m not a soddin’ amateur!” he exclaimed. “Think ‘m stupid enough to touch the murder weapon? It wasn’t even there…”

This puzzled Elizabeth even more. “The gun wasn’t in the apartment?” she demanded.

“Not that I could see. Just was in the living room for a minute, and then the kitchen. But it wasn’t near the body.”

“So how did it get in your car?” she asked, bewildered.

He shrugged. “Someone planted it there,” he insisted.

Elizabeth nodded slowly. “How long between the time when your secretary got the call and the police rushed in?” she inquired.

“Not long,” he answered, fingers tapping against the table nervously. “Was right in the neighborhood. Maybe half an hour? Tops.”

Elizabeth gave him a wistful smile. “Well, I’d love to know how the police knew to arrive when they did, especially since the guy upstairs seemed so unconcerned by the recent gunshot.”

Spike’s brow furrowed at that as well. “Think the same people that sent me there called the police to catch me?”

Elizabeth nodded. “It’s where we’ll start,” she agreed. “Although I’ve got to say…other than that, you were set up pretty well…” She trailed off at that, choked up slightly. However, she forced her emotions back under control, a steely determination overtaking her. “Whoever they are,” she concluded, “I’m not going to let them set you up for this, William. I’ll get you out,” she promised.

He looked only half-convinced.

“The unstoppable team of Albrook and Summers, right?” she reminded him with a smile.

“Yeah,” he agreed, venturing a weary smile of his own. The erratic tapping of his fingers on the surface of the dingy table increased. “Don’t s’pose you could get me a fag, pet?” he asked hopefully. “Took my smokes when the brought me in. Took the coat, too,” he grumbled as an afterthought.

Elizabeth smiled and gave his hand one last reassuring squeeze. “I’ll see to it,” she assured him, rising from her seat and exiting the interrogation room.

He felt a pain settle down over his heart when the door closed behind her and he could see her no more. Determined not to break down again in front of all these tossers, he closed his eyes shut tight and did something he never had before. He prayed.

“Elizabeth, there you are!” Robin Wood had just rushed into the police station, having gotten the message belatedly from a very disturbed Willow. “I heard that—”

“Spike’s being framed,” she informed Wood matter-of-factly.

“What?!” That exclamation came from Riley Finn. “We’ve got the weapon; we’ve got his prints. It’s an open and shut case!”

Wood was flipping through the preliminary reports as well, a grim expression on his face. “I have to agree,” he began. “Just because the guy is your ex—”

Riley looked at Elizabeth in surprise at that.

“I know he’s innocent,” Elizabeth insisted stubbornly.

Wood let out a weary sigh. “It’s all right,” he assured her. “I can understand if you want off this prosecution, given that he’s an old friend…”

“Off the prosecution?” Elizabeth repeated with a little laugh. “Well, I’d say that’s a given since I’m defending him and all.”

Both Wood and Riley froze at that, looking up at her in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious…” Wood began with a nervous laugh.

“I’m not going to let you railroad him,” Elizabeth insisted. “William is innocent, and I’m going to prove it…”


	3. Small Victories

“You can’t still be serious about this,” ADA Robin Wood pleaded as he and his former assistant entered the courtroom for the bail hearing. As usual, this courtroom was like a zoo, uniformed officers funneling handcuffed prisoners in the direction of their attorneys while the overworked judge listened with a rapidly growing headache to lawyers squabbling over bail amounts. “Think of your career.”

Elizabeth gave him a pointed look and began ticking off the points on her fingers. “One: The Trick case is on continuance until this trial is resolved. Two: I have two months’ overtime saved up. Three: I’ve taken _pro bono_ cases before without consequence. Four: Even if you _do_ threaten to fire me, I’m still not giving this one up.” She scanned the bustle of the room and spotted the head of a tall bailiff leading a familiar peroxide head.

Wood let out a weary sigh. “You’re not fired,” he assured her. “But…we’ve _got_ this guy!” he insisted for the umpteenth time.

Elizabeth raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And, according to your theory of the crime scene…what? William shot Worth wearing gloves – since he didn’t have gun powder marks on his hands, ran back outside to put the gun in his car, removed his gloves so that he could put his fingerprints on the murder weapon, disposed of the gloves in some way so that the police’s ten block canvas of the area couldn’t find them, then ran back upstairs to hover over the body and wait to get caught?” A sarcastic snort followed this assessment, and she waved to the bailiff to bring Spike over.

“That’s not our theory, and you know it,” Wood retorted.

“That’s the way the physical evidence works,” Elizabeth pointed out reasonably. “Now, unless you need me for anything, I’ve got a client to tend do.”

Wood merely shook his head, and Elizabeth dashed off, pushing her way through the onlookers to get to Spike.

He looked relieved to see her, and they managed to get two seats in the back of the room while they waited for their docket to come up.

“How are you doing?” Elizabeth asked softly, taking in the dark circles under his eyes.

He managed a wry laugh. “A word to the wise, luv. Stay outta prison. ‘S like livin’ in hell.”

Elizabeth’s hand squeezed his knee reassuringly. “I’ll just get you out on bail, and then we can get these ridiculous charges dropped,” she decided. “Then you won’t ever have to go back.”

He managed a wry chuckle. “Ever the optimist, eh?”

She smiled at him. “Always,” she agreed.

“Docket Number 415,” a nasal voice announced over the bustle of the courtroom.

“That’s us,” Elizabeth rose to her feet, Spike following only a few seconds later. They approached the defense table just as a pair of teenagers accused of armed robbery were led away.

“Docket Number 415, the People versus William Albrook. Charge of murder in the second degree.”

“How does the defendant plead?” Judge Baker inquired, peering over the wire rims of his glasses.

“Not guilty,” Spike insisted vehemently.

Judge Baker sighed. “Right. Bail? Tell me all about it, counselors.”

“The People request the defendant be remanded without bail,” Wood said firmly.

“Your Honor!” Elizabeth protested vehemently. “The prosecution themselves can’t even decide what my client did. They’ve listed every lesser charge they could get – man one, man two—”

“I need a bail amount for manslaughter,” Judge Baker agreed with Elizabeth.

“We believe this client is a flight risk,” Wood insisted. “He has joint US citizenship—”

“With Great Britain,” Elizabeth interjected. “My client’s perfectly willing to surrender his passport. And I’d like to point out this is the first charge that’s ever been raised against him. My client’s from a well-respected family – that includes two of your fellow judges back in England. He runs a private business and has strong ties to the community.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a flight risk to me, either,” Judge Baker agreed, eyeing Spike speculatively. “Although we’ll be taking that passport. Now, will the People _please_ suggest an amount so that we can move on?”

“One million.”

“For a possible manslaughter case?!” Elizabeth screeched, outraged.

“Already ahead of you on that, Ms. Summers,” Judge Baker assured her. “Since the prosecution isn’t providing any reasonable suggestions in the matter, I’m setting bail at one hundred thousand, cash or bond. Next?”

Elizabeth and Spike both breathed audible sighs of relief. “You can handle that?” she inquired softly.

“’ll have to put up the agency,” he agreed, “but yeah.”

Elizabeth nodded before they stepped aside to let the wheels of justice continue turning. “Good thing Walter’s so reasonable,” she gestured to Judge Baker as they approached one of the clerks to begin making arrangements.

“I forgot,” Spike teased lightly, the elation that he actually got to go _home_ tonight brightening the somber mood he’d been in ever since he’d been arrested, “all you lawyer types know each other.”

Elizabeth grimaced. “He plays tennis with my dad. You’re lucky he didn’t order you skinned alive.”

Spike laughed at that and sorted through the papers Elizabeth had brought to arrange his bail. “Still after my hide, is he?”

“ _Especially_ when he found out I was defending you,” Elizabeth agreed, catching sight of Wood leaving down the hallway out of the corner of her eye. “Can you handle this by yourself? I’ve got to go see what the hell my partner in crime-fighting thinks he’s doing.”

He nodded her off, and Elizabeth managed to jostle her way through the crowd, finally catching up with Wood right as he was leaving the building.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” she demanded pointedly.

Wood sighed. “Look,” he began apologetically, “your ex is the only lead we’ve got on the Trick case now that our witness is dead.”

“I guess that would explain why you’ve slapped this case together in only two weeks. Except you’ve got the slight problem that William wasn’t the one who killed your witness,” Elizabeth pointed out. “You got the same police report I did. That gun’s been involved in half a dozen homicides over the last decade. You’re looking for a mob hitman here.”

“And Spike’s not…” Wood trailed off pointedly.

“I can _personally_ provide him with an airtight alibi for the ’97 shooting,” she informed him with a roll of her eyes. “William’s not your guy.”

“And you remember all this from seven years ago?” Wood said skeptically.

“It was a very _memorable_ night,” Elizabeth insisted with a hint of a blush.

Wood looked away at that. “That doesn’t mean you know him now,” he pointed out gently.

“I know him,” Elizabeth insisted softly. “I know him better than anyone else ever will.”

“Well, either you’re completely wrong or all the evidence is,” Wood countered. He hailed a cab, and it pulled to the curb beside him. He cast one look up at the cloudy sky and pulled up his jacket collar. “Looks like rain.”

Elizabeth merely nodded. “I’ve got a case to get back to,” she informed him.

“And I would wish you luck, but…” He shrugged. “It’s easier on the DA’s office if your William just takes the fall.” With a parting wave, he hopped in that cab and drove off.

Elizabeth stood on the curb for a second and took a deep breath to calm herself, pulling her jacket more tightly around her shoulders against the crisp October air, before she returned to the courthouse.

A softly smiling Spike met her in the main hallway.

“Enjoying your freedom?” she asked lightly as they walked together back outside.

“Too much,” he agreed. “Better keep me this way, pet. ‘m all spoiled to it now.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ve bought myself all the time I need to work on the defense.”

“Boss actually gave you your vacation, huh?” he commented, holding the door for her.

“He’s not half as nasty in real life as he is in the courtroom,” Elizabeth agreed.

Spike held his tongue and his rage. He may not have stuck with the lawyer gig, but he still had enough ins in the community that he’d heard all the rumors about the steamy affair that prick was supposedly having with his girl. “Right,” he grumbled, shoving his fisted hands into the leather pockets of his duster.

Elizabeth turned and eyed him critically. “Trial date’s already set for later this month,” she pointed out. “Which means we’re going to need to prepare fast…”

“Can lend my personal investigative services,” he agreed.

Elizabeth frowned. “You bloody well will _not_ ,” she scolded, unknowingly using his own terminology. “Your face is going to be all over the news. We don’t need—”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Right, right,” he cut her off. “But my partner called, and he’s not gonna be left outta this.”

“Fine,” Elizabeth conceded. “Let him try to track down the gun. But we’ve,” she looked at Spike askance and shook her head, “got to get you fit for trial. And I hate to break it to you, but if you don’t want the jury to hang you on sight, the Billy Idol look’s gotta go.”

“Oi!” He exclaimed in outrage, clutching at the coat lovingly.

“Not in the courtroom,” she insisted. “And we’ll hafta dye your hair back. I’m sure you remember all those lectures on how important professional appearance is to a jury.”

“Shoulda known you were after my hair,” he retorted, sulking at the logic of her point. “Always _were_ tryin’ to give me makeovers…”

* * *

 _William yawned and shifted uncomfortably in the hard library chair before shaking his head and returning to the task before him._

 _Buffy glanced up at his movements and smiled. She’d come to learn through working with him that he was surprisingly impatient – never able to sit still and work on something for more than five minutes before getting up and pacing. He claimed it facilitated thought. Buffy was convinced he just got bored easily. But, with Willow and Cordelia researching in the library with them, he obviously didn’t want to start stamping around the room. In fact, at first he’d been hesitant to do so even when it was just the two of them._

 _William watched as Buffy yawned as well, and a slight flush lit up his cheeks at the memory of just why she was so tired today. Last night… Well, their ‘date’ had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. Nightclubs weren’t really his thing, but when Buffy had so excitedly insisted they go to one, he hadn’t been able to refuse that radiant smile of hers._

 _They’d just settled down to eat when Buffy’s friends had shown up – the two studying with them right now, along with their significant others. It had fast turned into some sort of triple date, although the loser Cordelia had brought in – Was Derek his name? Or Devon maybe? – had been a complete non-entity, obviously there for Cordelia’s often overstated pleasure. Willow’s girlfriend Tara had been sweet, though – a shy student working on her Ph.D. in Literature – and she and William had spent most of the night debating whether all American poetry should be flushed down the toilet._

 _But the thing that struck him most about the evening was his companion. Buffy treated him like no one else ever had – like he was fun to be with and funny and attractive, a far cry from the complete loser he’d been most of his life. And the way she looked when she laughed and when she danced… Absolutely beautiful._

 _With a wistful sigh and a shake of his head, William returned to the incredibly boring transcripts before him._

 _Buffy looked up at the sound and sighed at the sight of the absolutely delicious young man, long bangs tumbled over his forehead and glasses in danger of falling off as he read the documents before him. She imagined brushing his hair back gently, caressing his face, before she planted a soft kiss on his brow, and…_

 _“Buffy!” Cordelia’s voice sounded louder the second time._

 _“Huh?” Buffy started abruptly, rudely shaken from her wonderful fantasy._

 _“I asked if you wanted me to get you anything from the vending machines,” Cordelia repeated with a roll of her eyes. It was all too clear where her friend’s mind had been. What she couldn’t comprehend was_ why _someone as popular and attractive as Buffy would even give William the time of day, let alone drool over him like he was the saltiest piece of goodness she’d ever seen._

 _“Oh, um, no thanks,” Buffy stuttered, blushing at being caught in the act. William was giving her the most curious look, like he was wondering why she was so flustered at the simple question. “I’m good.” She flashed Cordy a bright smile._

 _Cordelia just nodding slowly, the lengthy “riiiiight” clearly indicated in her expression. “Wills?”_

 _“Get me whatever salty cheese snack they’ve got,” Willow’s voice emerged from the piles of books surrounding her. “Oh, and can you fill up my water bottle?” A hand rose over the rim of the literary mountain, waving the aforementioned object._

 _Cordy took it from her and then rolled her eyes at the last member of their little research group. “What about the stump? Does he want anything?” she demanded in a bored manner._

 _Buffy’s anger flared and her jaw dropped at her friend’s rudeness. She half rose, a gasp escaping her lips, fully prepared to chew out this bitch that dared insult William to his face._

 _However, William beat her to it, his large hand grasping her elbow and silencing her. “Don’t bother, pet. Can’t blame the Prom Queen for thinking men’re nothing but blocks of wood. You saw her date last night.”_

 _Cordelia’s cheeks flamed in response, and she began an indignant sputter._

 _“Besides, the wood’s the only part you’re interested in, am I right?” William added with an evil little smile._

 _Cordelia, flustered beyond belief, managed to sputter out a “Jerk!” before making a strategic retreat to the vending machines._

 _William, meanwhile, froze for a second before realizing that, oh shit, he really_ had _just said those thoughts aloud. His cheeks flamed a bright red when he noticed the way Buffy and Willow were both staring at him, jaws dropped._

 _“Er, that is I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” he began apologetically, stuttering horribly and not daring to look at either of them. He hastily scrambled for his books. “I-I’ll just go, and—”_

 _A giggle cut him off._

 _He looked up in surprise to see Buffy, right hand covering her mouth and desperately trying to contain her mirth. He frowned for a second, baffled, before she finally let out her laughter._

 _“You out-snarked the Bitch Queen!” Buffy announced in delight, still letting out delighted peals of laughter. “Too, too funny!”_

 _Willow was giggling as well by now. “Did you see the look on her face? I haven’t seen anyone get her that good since college.”_

 _It took William a second to absorb the fact that they were actually_ laughing _. At something he’d said. “I-I really didn’t mean…” he let out one final protest._

 _“Don’t worry about it,” Buffy assured him with a soft smile that sent all the blood in his body rushing south at dangerous speeds. “Cordy needs someone to knock her down a peg or two every so often.”_

 _“I…” He was left completely speechless. Acceptance was not something he was used to. “I really should go. I’ve finished the 8-14 transcripts and…”_

 _Buffy caught that he was feeling a bit flustered and nodded in agreement. “My brain was going numb from sitting in this place all afternoon, anyway,” she announced, rising with him. She looked at the gray cement interior of the study room they’d procured in the library basement and shuddered. “Why don’t I help you get the rest of those files, and we can maybe catch lunch?” she asked hopefully._

 _“Uh, sure…” An equally hopeful look lit up his eyes. “Only I really should apologize to Cordelia…” he added hesitantly._

 _Willow waved him away. “She’ll have forgotten about it by the time she comes back,” she assured him. “Some other disaster will have struck her by then. But I’ll tell her for you if you want me to.”_

 _“Please,” William agreed before heading nervously from the study room._

 _Buffy moved to follow him, but Willow held her back for a second._

 _“You’re right,” the redhead said with a wink. “He_ is _cute.”_

 _Buffy merely blushed and smiled before running after her partner._

 _Cordelia didn’t even cast the departing pair a look when she returned to the table, resplendent with salty treat, in a panic. “Willow, help!” she gasped out breathlessly. “One of those physics nerds has the same purse I do!”_

 _Willow merely nodded and returned to her studying. Cordelia’s latest crisis was right on schedule…_

* * *

 _“So,” Buffy sat down on the park bench and rested her briefcase on the ground beside her. “Do you want November or December?”_

 _“I thought we were returning to the library,” William commented curiously, stopping before her and accepting one of the folders they’d retrieved from his spacious brownstone apartment._

 _Buffy plopped her own work down in her lap and snatched up a pen. “C’mon, I know you’re sick to death of that library,” she retorted with a knowing smile. “Besides, it’s beautiful out here.” She gestured to the little arbor that surrounded them._

 _He shrugged and sat beside her, focusing intently on the cover of the manila file folder._

 _“What’s with the moody?” Buffy asked curiously, nibbling on the tip of her pen. “You’re not still freaked about the Cordy thing?”_

 _He sighed. “Just try not to lose my temper like that usually,” he confessed._

 _Buffy smiled at him. “Yeah, well, you’ve just got to let those things out every now and again,” she assured him. “Especially when you’ve got comebacks like that one.” She underlined a portion of text. “Knew you had a sense of humor in you.”_

 _The edges of his own lips twitched upwards slightly at that as well. “Someone had to tell the bint off sooner or later,” he shrugged._

 _Buffy snickered. “Watch yourself. You sooo don’t want to get into a war of words with Cordy.”_

 _“I can take her,” he insisted with a little grin._

 _“Oh, really?” Buffy gave him a skeptical look and sat the file down beside her. She’d never seen the playful side of William before, but she was liking it. And somewhere deep inside, she’d instinctively known that they’d hit it right off as soon as he let himself open up to her._

 _“Just stare at her hair like there’s something mildly distasteful about it, and watch her run off to the bathroom to check it,” he responded with a sly grin._

 _“Oh my god, you are so evil,” Buffy laughed._

 _A soft chuckle escaped his lips as well, and he slouched back against the bench comfortably. The brief thought struck him at how odd it was that he felt so at ease with a woman this attractive, but he quickly pushed it to the side. “Not if I can help it,” he assured her._

 _“Then why are you in law school?” she teased._

 _He groaned. “God, you sound like my dad…”_

 _“Really? ‘Cause I thought I sounded exactly like_ my _dad.”_

 _“Lawyer?” he inquired._

 _“Of course,” she agreed with a roll of her eyes._

 _“You get the lectures about how you have to be cutthroat, too?”_

 _“While getting yelled at all the time for arguing back,” she added._

 _He sighed. “A grand life, isn’t it?”_

 _“But at least we all turn into socially dysfunctional adults who perpetuate the birth of new little lawyers,” Buffy agreed. And then blushed. The sudden image of creating little lawyers with the man beside her had popped into mind, and certain of the intervening steps had been rather appealing._

 _He snickered at that. “That why you’re here, then?” he asked curiously. “The family business and all that rot?”_

 _“Actually I’m here to save the world,” she countered coyly._

 _“Oh?” A well-sculpted eyebrow rose at that. “Do tell?”_

 _“Well, it’s just…I want to help people, help keep them safe. And since I’m a bit short to take up the police of things,” she shrugged, “I’ll settle for locking the bad guys away.”_

 _“Ah, an idealist lawyer then,” he teased._

 _“You’re not an idealist?” she countered._

 _He shrugged. “No room to be anything with dad breathing down my neck all the time.”_

 _She bit her lip apologetically. “I know what you mean. I’ve had to scream to be heard myself.”_

 _“I settled a bit more for staying quiet and out of the way,” he admitted hesitantly._

 _“Yeah, well,” Buffy countered with an affectionate smile, “you’re brilliant at the whole lawyer thing, so joke’s on him, right?” On the bench beside him, her hand cautiously reached over to brush his knee._

 _He didn’t pull back from the warm caress. “Guess so,” he agreed with a little gulp. The way she was looking at him was doing the strangest things to him. Suddenly, he felt strong, powerful, desirable. Thoughts of catching her up in his arms weren’t being counteracted by the usual embarrassment and insecurity. He leaned forward, and…_

 _A drop of rain hit him right on the tip of the nose._

 _And then another fell and another, and soon the pair of them were squealing and scrambling to bury their folders safely in the protection of their briefcases. The park suddenly became the worst place to be as the sudden cloudburst drenched them._

 _William grabbed an abandoned newspaper from the bench across from them, and they both held it over their heads in a poor imitation of an umbrella as they ran for the nearest shelter. The first thing they came across was a wooden gazebo, and they gratefully escaped the rain in the small structure. It was the sort where the white planks left wide gaps in the roof, but vines had been planted around it, providing a limited cover of greenery. Still, it wasn’t entirely dry._

 _“Please tell me we saved everything in time,” Buffy requested, sitting on the hexagonal wooden bench that rested at the center of the structure and then inching over towards William a bit when she found that one of the many drips in their partial roof was landing right on her shoulder._

 _“I’ve got copies if anything got wet,” he assured her, peeling off his tweed jacket and grimacing. “Would offer you my jacket for the cold, but…” He flung the wet garment down onto the bench and sat beside her. The entire world appeared to be in a haze until he realized that his glasses had just steamed up. “The weather hates me,” he concluded, removing the spectacles and placing them in his jacket pocket. One hand pushed the damp hair off his forehead, slicking it back._

 _Buffy’s mouth suddenly went dry. The incredibly handsome man she’d only seen hints of was suddenly before her in all his glory. The glasses had drawn attention away from the razor’s edges of his cheekbones, and the lenses had obscured the brilliant blue of his eyes. The somewhat silly mop of hair was minimized by the rain. And the body… The white button-up shirt he’d worn beneath the tweed was equally wet and clung to a leanly muscled physique beyond any of her wildest fantasies. She gulped as he plucked at the thin wet fabric that was stuck to an absolutely scrumptious looking pectoral and longingly followed the trail of one droplet of rain as it ran under his collar to caress the skin beneath._

 _William saw her shiver again and promptly misinterpreted the reason behind it, venturing to reach over and rub one of her arms for warmth. His own eyes were desperately avoiding where her own wet clothing was clinging to her slight form, and he had to consciously keep himself from moaning whenever he saw her wet flesh._

 _“W-Warmer?” he asked hesitantly, venturing to look her in the eyes._

 _She nodded dumbly, still staring at him with wonder. “You should wear your hair like that,” she decided with a gulp. “M-Maybe cut it a bit, too…”_

 _William had, at that moment, been debating the pros and cons of kissing her. As a result, her comment seemed like the most ridiculous non sequitur he’d ever heard. “Bloody hell, Buffy,” he exclaimed. “You’re giving me a makeover?!”_

 _A smile twitched at the edges of her lips at that. She was sort of starting to like snarky William. His eyes darted down to her mouth in response, but he didn’t move in further._ C’mon, Buff _, her inner voice cheered her on._ He’s all shy and stuff. This is _sooo_ your move…

 _She leaned forward slowly so that her body now brushed the strong length of his and oh-so-gently brushed her lips up against his. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she held the kiss for a few seconds before she moved to pull back._

 _William’s eyes had widened, shocked beyond imagining when she’d kissed him, but now he belatedly realized that she was stopping. He quickly leaned back into her, reasserting their lips’ contact and slipping his arms around her to deepen their kiss._

 _Buffy whimpered against him, and her hands came up to twine in his damp hair, holding him to her more tightly, her tongue teasing his lips now and begging entry._

 _His mouth opened against hers, and their tongues quickly met and danced. Buffy’s guided at first, the more experienced of the two, but William’s was a fast learner, and soon they were equals in their passionate struggle._

 _So absorbed were they both that neither noticed when the rain stopped and the sky cleared above them, nor would they notice for another hour. At that moment, the world encompassed only the two of them…_

* * *

 _And William walked into the law library the next day, brown hair cropped into short, stylish curls that he’d slicked back, wearing black jeans and a white button-up with rolled up sleeves that bared his powerful forearms and the top two buttons unfastened to show off a bit of the hard muscle beneath, and glasses nowhere in sight._

 _Buffy couldn’t help but snicker when Cordelia’s jaw dropped and the other woman began drooling uncontrollably at the salty goodness that had been hiding in a nerd’s disguise. “Do you need a towel?” she teased her friend lightly before getting up to brush a soft kiss across William’s cheek…_

* * *

“Always after the hair,” Spike grumbled.

“Actually,” Elizabeth informed him with a sly smile, “I kind of like the platinum look.”

He raised one skeptical eyebrow at that. “Weren’t so thrilled when I first dyed it,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, but it’s grown on me since then. I think it’s kinda sexy,” she admitted, cheeks reddening slightly before she turned serious once more. “But it still has to go.”

He groaned. “Not brown,” he insisted vehemently.

“Fine. Pick whatever color you want. Just make sure it looks natural.”

“Black?” he ventured.

“Where, oh where, did your black fetish come from?” she teased lightly before eyeing him critically. “Black will work,” she concluded.

He breathed a sigh of relief before a leer curved the edges of his lips. “Think the platinum’s sexy, do you?” he practically purred.

Elizabeth felt her body respond to his tone but forced the reaction down. “Okay, Mister I Just Spent the Last Two Days In Jail And Need _Sleep_ , here’s your cab.” She placed a hand on the center of his back and guided him toward the open car door.

“Prison’s lackin’ some other… _comforts_ , as well,” he replied, his voice dripping innuendo as he looked her up and down.

Elizabeth sighed, and the first drops from the storm-head above fell to the pavement around them. For a second, they created the strange illusion that she was back in law school and those succulent lips had still to be tasted. She shook the notion off.

“Good-bye, William,” she said, turning professional once more. “We’ll meet Tuesday to discuss our plan of attack.”

With a shrug he climbed into the cab, slamming the door behind him. Elizabeth watched the car until it rounded a corner and escaped her view before quickly hailing another. The rain had picked up a bit of the chill in the October air, and suddenly she was left feeling cold and very alone…


	4. Innocent

With a weary sigh, Elizabeth sat down on her favorite bench in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. If nothing else, the boring bar banquets had at least turned her on to the museum and the peaceful, relaxing environment she could find inside. Sometimes, when the stress of her work seemed overwhelming, she’d move it to this location and spend the afternoon looking at the great masterpieces of the past and thinking through her problems. And, boy, was she having problems right now.

She had no idea now why she’d thought representing Spike would be anywhere approaching easy. The man was simply the most cantankerous, irritating, arrogant creature in existence. Well, except maybe for her great black tomcat, Angel. But that was beside the point. The point was that Spike stuck firmly and resolutely to the fact that he hadn’t done a thing wrong, and he wouldn’t even _consider_ any of the defense options that gave him the best chance of winning.

Oh no, Spike insisted that he was being set up, and rather than providing holes in the witness testimony, he and his private investigating partner, Xander, and Xander’s annoying fiancée, Anya, were trying to actually solve the case of who had framed him. It was more of a headache than Elizabeth wanted to handle at the moment.

The problem was that, if Spike had indeed been set up – of which she had little doubt – then there were really only two suspects. The first, the Wilkins crime syndicate, was a hopeless tangle of ‘family’ ties, hired assassins, and spokesmen trained specifically for eluding any kind of investigation. The second alternative, the Boston police department, was just as bad. Either way you looked at it, a mountain of secrecy and self-preservation rose up, and neither of the ‘good old boy’ clubs were ever likely to cough up the real killer.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it. Every day she had to sit with Spike, preparing their defense strategy. Spike, of course, had no idea who had framed him, who had put the gun in his car, or how devastatingly sexy he looked when he cocked his head at her in that one way and gave her that soft, innocent smile of his. And did he have _any_ clue how well nigh _impossible_ it was to try to resist stroking her fingers through that angelic white hair of his? And what about those powerful, well-muscled forearms that seemed to ‘casually’ brush against her just a bit too often? And how on earth was she just supposed to sit there and not kiss him when he was giving her that seductive smirk, or the full pouty lip, or the lazy yawn, or…or just staring off into space? God, that man’s lips should be illegal. Maybe she should write some legislature to that effect…

 _Whereas, William Albrook’s lips are too tempting for any straight woman to resist, let it be resolved that the aforementioned lips will be covered by Elizabeth Summers’ lips perpetually as a public service to all other women who might become distracted while doing business with the aforementioned William Albrook._

Her mind drifted for a minute at the lovely thought of plundering those full, luscious lips in order to remove the cruel temptation… And then she shook it off. What was she thinking about again? Oh yeah: She hated him. For all the reasons she’d just mentioned. And she was certainly not still attracted to him in the slightest. Uh-uh, not one bit.

 _Full, soft, William lips trailed down her collarbone to the soft curve of her breast. For an instant, pure blue eyes looked up at her, asking invitation, but she couldn’t do anything but moan in approval as his hot, talented mouth engulfed her breast. “Oh god, yesss…”_

Elizabeth snapped back to with a start and ran her fingers through her hair. Really, was it any wonder she was having trouble concentrating? And it was all Spike’s fault, distracting her and making everything unnecessarily difficult.

Determined to take her mind off the infuriating still-peroxide blonde, Elizabeth rose from her bench, briefcase under one arm, and decided to have a look at the latest exhibit to visit the fine city of Boston. The guest exhibition was 18th century sculpture – not particularly one of her interests – but anything was better than this…fretting. Yeah, that was it. Pure anxiety. Nothing remotely approaching desire. And certainly nothing so school-girl-ish as daydreaming. She’d long outgrown all of that.

Slowly, she walked between the sculptures that had been set up in the gallery, silently ruing the fact that 18th century sculptors seemed to like replicating statues from the Classical era. Marble, symmetric torsos of lean, sleek muscle weren’t exactly what she was in the mood for at that moment.

Elizabeth turned to the impressionist painting gallery for a welcome reprieve from thoughts of naked, sexy men when suddenly a particular piece caught her eye. It was a small thing, really, not much more than a square foot of marble with a sculpted scene rising out from the pure white background. Yet it drew her as if were real, a window into her past.

Elizabeth barely managed to refrain from reaching out and stroking the lean, soft lines of the male figure’s body. Like all the others, this figure was nude, slumped lazily back against the body of a great cat and dangling a vine of grapes from one hand. But that body… God, she knew it. She had once felt every inch of it, tasted it, caressed it, surrounded herself with it. Even the pale tone of the marble held a living glow, reminding her of warm, untanned skin as she’d lain in his arms.

With Herculean effort, Elizabeth managed to draw her eyes from the sculpture to the plaque beside it: “John Deare ‘Bacchus Feeding a Panther’ 1792, on loan from the Art Institute of Chicago.” The inscription was so innocuous, so mundane. It couldn’t even begin to describe the feelings that ran through her at the sight of the piece. The man within looked so…free, passionate, intense…

And, unbidden, the memories she’d been fighting against ever since she’d taken on Spike’s case flooded her. Oh, she’d known a body just like this one. She’d known him only too well…

* * *

 _“Mmm, William,” Buffy gasped, clutching his head to the hollow of her shoulder as he continued to trail soft kisses up and down her collarbone. “Feels so good.”_

 _He smiled up at her in response, just the hint of a smirk in his lips. “You’re the one who feels good,” he murmured against her hair before dropping a quick, chaste kiss to her lips. Then, he sighed. “We should probably close the door.”_

 _Buffy agreed with a regretful nod, and she let the arms that had wrapped around his shoulders drop so that he could close the door to his apartment. With a breathless sigh, she sat down on the edge of his kitchen table and watched him as he went to the door, picked up their briefcases and put them over by the couch before locking up. A contented sigh escaped her lips._

 _Their whirlwind romance had started only…what? Three weeks ago? And already she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. He was The One. The way she felt about him… Well, there was desire there, to be sure, but she’d never felt this close to another man. The two of them seemed to just instinctively know each other, as if they were two parts of a larger whole. She felt_ completed _when she was with him, like someone finally understood her, like she finally really belonged…_

 _“Happy thoughts?” he inquired with a tilt of his head, secretly delighting in the way she looked at him. He’d never seen those emotions in a woman’s eyes before, not directed at him. It still astonished him that she had noticed him in the first place._

 _“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured happily, rising to her feet and approaching him sensuously, a predatory purpose in her step. Her hands came up to caress the cotton of his shirt before her nimble fingers drifted to the buttons, slowly unfastening the top one. “Bed?” she inquired with a coy smile._

 _He smiled as well at that and caught her up in his arms as he kissed her with all the pent up passion in his body. The hours they spent together working were rewarding, true, but he always looked forward to these moments when they were alone so that they could fully demonstrate their affections._

 _Still locked at the lips, they managed to stagger back to his bedroom and landed on the bouncy mattress with a laugh. Buffy pushed him onto his back and proceeded to fully unbutton his shirt, exposing his lean, sculptured chest to her hungry gaze. “God, you’re gorgeous,” she whispered for the umpteenth time._

 _“You’re the one who’s beautiful,” he countered, sitting up beneath where she straddled his waist and slipping his hand beneath the hem of her blouse. Blue eyes asked permission and were instantly granted it. A low hiss escaped from between his teeth – as it always did – when her body and the black silk of her bra were exposed to him. “So beautiful,” he whispered reverently, resting his head between her breasts._

 _She cradled him against her chest for a minute, running tapered fingers through his soft hair. “William?” she finally murmured softly, planting a gentle kiss on his brow._

 _“Yes, luv?”_

 _“Do you think we could…?” she blushed. “I mean, I sort of want to… I’m ready and all, and…” She gulped and took in a deep breath of air. Lazy nights spent touching in his bed were nice, and she loved talking with him, laughing with him, waking up in the morning beside him. But she wanted more now. “I want you, William,” she admitted softly, tilting her head down to kiss him deeply._

 _After a moment, he pulled back for breath, panting. “Want you, too,” he assured her in a husky voice._

 _She rolled her eyes. About some things he was amazingly clueless, and this seemed to be one of them. “No,” she amended, “I mean…” She ground her hips pointedly down into his growing hardness. “I. Want. You.”_

 _His eyes widened almost comically, and his Adam’s Apple bobbed once nervously. “B-Buffy?” he whispered, demanding confirmation._

 _“I want all of you,” she agreed, thumb fondly tracing the razor’s edge of one cheekbone. “I want us to be together in every way. I want to feel you inside me. I want to make love to you…” She punctuated her requests with a series of kisses down his chest, leading ever closer to…_

 _“Buffy!” he cried out in abrupt alarm when he realized where her mouth was heading. He caught her firmly by the shoulders to prevent her descent._

 _She looked up at him confusedly, fear and insecurity written in her eyes._

 _“It-It’s not…” he hastily moved to explain, face flaming red in response. “I-I mean, I want you, too.” He shifted under her weight, and the length of his now fully hard erection brushed against her accidentally. A soft moan escaped his lips in response, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight for a second. “Well, obviously you can feel that…” He trailed off, embarrassed beyond belief, before he dared to try again. “It’s just that I’ve never…you know…”_

 _Buffy’s eyes widened in realization. “You’re a virgin?” she asked softly._

 _“Don’t laugh,” he begged, burying his face in his hands and sighing wearily._

 _Laughter was the furthest thing from her mind. If anything, a hint of anger shot through her that in all of his twenty-four years, not a single of the women he’d met had had the brains to see him for what he really was. It had never ever occurred to her that he might never have been with anyone before. Guys always acted so experienced that she’d just sort of assumed that they all had some fun with the local bimbo once they turned sixteen. The fact that William hadn’t… Well, it was actually sort of sweet, like this beautiful, good-hearted man had been solely reserved for her._

 _“I’m not going to laugh,” she assured him softly, coming up behind where he now sat with his back to her and hugging him from behind, her head resting against one powerful shoulder. “It’s not your fault all other women are idiots.”_

 _He let out a bark of laughter at that. “How do you always know how to make me laugh?” he asked with a sigh._

 _“The same way you always can make me smile,” she countered, kissing his bare shoulder gently._

 _A short nod. “Y-You won’t tell anybody?” he pleaded softly, his voice sounding more vulnerable than she’d ever heard it._

 _“It’ll be our little secret,” she assured him, loosening her arms slightly so that he could turn around to face her._

 _“You know,” he began with a shy smile, “I think I’m kind of in love with you.”_

 _A radiant smile spread across her face, and she gave him a slow, languorous kiss. “I think I’m kind of in love with you, too,” she finally replied when they separated for breath. “And I would be_ honored _if you’d let me be your first. If you’re ready, that is,” she hastily assured him._

 _“I…” His finger trailed over one silk-covered breast before he looked up at her with innocent blue eyes. “You’ll show me?” he requested shyly._

 _“I’ll show you_ everything _,” she assured him, leaning in to kiss him once more._

 _Their mouths lingered longer this time, and she took advantage of his growing comfort to lead him back fully onto the bed. She lay back carefully and pulled him so that he lay half on top of her as their hands slowly caressed each other._

 _“I-I probably won’t be any good,” he mumbled nervously against her shoulder when her wandering hands found the button of his slacks and deftly popped it open._

 _“Don’t worry about being good,” she soothed, lowering the zipper there as well. “This time is all for you. Just enjoy and don’t worry about anything…”_

 _He sighed against her shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered softly._

 _She gave him a wicked smirk. “It’s not like I’m not getting anything in return,” she teased lightly._

 _He let out a mock-offended huff and proceeded to nibble at her throat in that way that he knew drove her mad. Buffy moaned and squirmed beneath him, nubile body arching beneath his at his mouth’s talents. She managed to gain enough control over her limbs to catch hold of his hands, guiding them to her remaining clothes and leading his fingers through the elegant procedures of undressing a woman._

 _His attention turned from her throat to the things his hands were doing, marveling at the full weight of her bare breasts as he palmed them for the first time, the long slender length of her tanned legs, the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. “You’re a goddess,” he gasped in awe when she finally stretched completely nude beside him. “Oh god, so beautiful…” He tackled her back beneath him, masculine instincts finally taking over at the sight of his naked love in his bed._

 _Buffy moaned at the feel of skin on skin, the soft head of his cock rubbing enticingly along her inner thigh. He’d figured out enough to prop himself up on his elbows to prevent his full weight from pressing her down, but she still had enough solid William mass above her to keep her pinned in place. His hands were stroking her everywhere, frantically, as if he were afraid that this vision before him would vanish and all he would get were these few moments._

 _“Shh,” she soothed him softly, her own fingertips running up and down the smooth muscles of his back. “Don’t rush things. Just let it happen…”_

 _“God, I want you so much,” he whimpered against her ear._

 _“And I’m yours,” she assured him. “I’m not going anywhere.”_

 _“I-I want to…” He trailed off, still embarrassed to say the words._

 _“I know.” She caught hold of one of his hands and guided it down between her thighs. “You’re gonna need to stretch me out a bit first.” She gave him an impish smile and nibbled at his lower lip. “You’re kinda big,” she explained with a blush._

 _He blushed as well but followed her lead, allowing his fingers to cautiously explore her entrance. It was new to him, yet like coming home at the same time. Hesitantly, he rubbed his thumb over the nub of flesh he found and was rewarded with a heady moan. “Th-That’s good?” he questioned softly._

 _“Oh god, yes. Don’t stop,” she gasped out. Her hand clasped his harder, and she guided his first finger inside her, murmuring her approval when naturally he began to stroke in and out of her._

 _William, meanwhile, was in heaven. The moans she was letting out were making him harder by the second, and the sight of the most desirable creature he’d ever seen thrashing beneath him like_ he _was the most desirable creature on earth… “I need to be inside you,” he gasped out._

 _“N-Not ready yet,” she whimpered. “More.”_

 _He deciphered her meaning and slipped a second finger within her, and then a third. He could feel the tightness of her inner passage expand with each new digit, and even imagining that wet sheath surrounding his cock had him in immediate danger of spilling his load._

 _“Can you feel how wet I am for you?” she whispered into his ear. “How much I want you?”_

 _“Yes,” he agreed raggedly, squeezing his eyes shut tight against the climax her words were pressing him towards._

 _“It’s all for you,” she informed him. “You do that to me, baby…”_

 _“I need…” he whimpered._

 _“I know,” she agreed. “Now.”_

 _“Now,” he whispered back in relief. God, he wanted to be inside her so badly, but the way she was squirming beneath him, he didn’t know if he could last. He could feel each throbbing beat of his heart pulse in the blood of his swollen erection, and it was only a matter of time now before he… “Christ!” he cried out in ecstasy, clenching his teeth tight against the impending orgasm._

 _Buffy halted her movements where she’d grabbed hold of his erection to guide him inside of her. For a few moments, she just let her fingers loosely encircle him, letting him grow accustomed to her as she soothingly stroked his hair. “You in control now?” she finally asked._

 _He managed a jerky nod. “S-Sorry about that…”_

 _“Don’t be sorry,” she assured him, leading the tip of his erection to the entrance to her womb. “It’s kind of adorable, actually. How much you want me…”_

 _He opened his mouth to respond, but then the feel of her wet heat overcame him, and he was once again gasping for control._

 _She slowly removed her hand and returned it to the back of his neck. “Whenever you’re ready,” she whispered against his lips. “Just push in slowly, and… Oh god!”_

 _The last of his control shattered at that, and he thrust inside her with his full force, panting in disbelief at the feel of her tight passage clenching around him. God, she was like a wet, velvet glove, squeezing him tightly, as if she’d been molded to his contours. Unable to stop himself, he began moving frantically inside her, thrusting in and out with uneven jerks._

 _“Oh god, hot…so hot, wet, tight…oh yes…hot, Buffy…so hot, so wet…oh god, perfect…you’re perfect, luv…oh god, yes…oh god…oh yes…”_

 _So it wasn’t the most inspired thing that had ever come out of his mouth. Buffy didn’t care, though. Her initial cry at the feel of his full girth thrusting hard within her had been drowned out by his babbles, and now she was just clinging on, trying to move with his erratic rhythm but mostly holding him tight as he spiraled toward his inevitable climax._

 _“So good,” William was still gasping out, eyes rolling back in their sockets at the heat of her, “oh Buffy, Buffy…” His orgasm erupted within her, stars and fireworks exploding behind his eyelids as he flooded her womb with his seed. His body froze above hers for a minute, jaw tensed and breath hitched, before he collapsed on top of her in a boneless heap._

 _Buffy breathed in a deep breath. He had barely lasted a minute within her, but god he had felt good. A little whimper of regret escaped her throat when he softened once more and slipped out of her, but she didn’t dwell on it. She had anticipated that he’d be completely out of control this once, and she’d just wanted to give him whatever pleasure she could. Given to volume of his roar when he came, she was pretty sure she’d succeeded. That thought was all the happy she needed at the moment._

 _However, the full weight of his body lying across hers was beginning to make breathing difficult. “William?” she managed to gasp out._

 _“Buffy…” he murmured back softly._

 _“You’re getting heavy,” she pointed out._

 _“Oh god, sorry,” he immediately apologized, rolling off of her. “I didn’t crush you, did I? Or-Or hurt you? Or…oh god, we didn’t use protection!” His eyes were widening in panic now._

 _“Shh,” she hushed him once more, sidling up against him and slipping a casual arm around his waist as she snuggled closer. “I’m on the pill. You didn’t hurt me in the slightest. In fact,” she fluttered her eyelashes up at him, “you felt_ really _good. And I can survive a brief crushing,” she addressed his first concern with a little laugh._

 _He sighed in relief and buried his nose in her hair, deeply inhaling the scent of lavender. A strange and powerful feeling was coming over him now, in the aftermath. The urge to protect her, to hold her close and never let go, was almost overwhelming, and he tightened his embrace around her nude form, pulling her closer so that her head was pillowed on his chest. “My love…” he whispered huskily against her ear._

 _She sighed and smiled up softly at him. “I take it you like?” she inquired with a grin._

 _“God, luv,” he agreed, eyes fluttering shut as a deep-seated weariness took over him, “you didn’t tell me…” A soft kiss to her brow. “It was heaven._ You _were heaven. I-I’m sorry I couldn’t—”_

 _She cut him off with a fingertip to his lips. “I’ll teach you all about how to pleasure me later,” she promised him. “We’ve got all the time in the world. Right now, you just need to sleep.”_

 _He opened his mouth to protest that he_ needed _to show her right now just how wonderful she made him feel, but a lion-sized yawn escaped his lips, and instead he caved in to her wishes, curling up against her body as he drifted into a deep sleep._

 _Buffy sighed contentedly and stroked his hair gently. “I’ve got so much left to show you,” she murmured against him. “We’re going to be great together, baby.” A yawn escaped her own lips, and within a minute she also had fallen asleep, curled up safely in his strong arms…_

* * *

Elizabeth’s reminiscing was interrupted by a familiar vibration against her hip. She quickly found the women’s room and pulled out her cell phone before it vibrated its fourth ring. “Summers,” she said crisply into the receiver.

“Buffy,” Spike’s voice sounded relieved and exhausted on the other end. “We…well, _I’ve_ got a bit of a problem,” he began.

Elizabeth’s hand clenched the receiver more tightly. “What’s happened?” she asked anxiously.

A snort of laughter at the other end. “Guess who decided to pay yours truly a visit?” he countered.

“Who?” she asked, confused.

“About fifty of our fair city’s most irritatin’ and nosy reporters,” he answered. “Got an entire mob parked right outside my door. Causing a great ruckus, they are.”

Elizabeth groaned. “Great,” she sighed, “just what we need…”

“ _We_ need?” he retorted. “You don’t hafta try an’ sleep with half the state chatting right outside your bedroom.”

“Ugh. Sorry you have to put up with this,” Elizabeth said apologetically. “I guess it was kind of inevitable with a murder trial…”

“Yeah, well, don’t really care how inevitable it was. Make ‘em go away,” he insisted stubbornly.

“I can’t,” she responded. “Freedom of the press and all that. Unless they’re trespassing…”

“No such luck,” he scowled out the window where the agents of the press seemed to have set up a picket right outside the border of his apartment building’s property.

Elizabeth groaned. “Okay, it’s ‘flee from the press’ time,” she decided. “You have anyplace else you can stay?”

“The office,” he shrugged, giving the two-fingered salute to one of the cameramen as he tried to shoot Spike through the window. He quickly dropped the curtain closed on the scene outside.

“You’re not sleeping in an office,” Elizabeth scolded.

“Well, Xander an’ Anya aren’t gonna let me intrude on their love-nest,” he retorted.

She let out a weary sigh. “Find, you can stay with me.”

“What?!” he exclaimed in surprise.

 _What?!_ Her mind was shrieking at her. _Oh, shut up, it’s the most obvious solution_ , another voice countered. “Oh, shut up, it’s the most obvious solution,” she repeated to Spike aloud. “Meet me at the courthouse, and we’ll make sure the bail agents know where you are. And be sure to pack bags with whatever you’ll need, including formal clothes for the trial.”

A brief pause on the other end of the line. “You’re serious? You want me to move in with you?”

It sounded frighteningly like the thoughts running through Elizabeth’s own mind. “Yeah,” she insisted, shutting down all the naysayers.

A sigh. “All right then. Be at the courthouse in about an hour.” Another sigh. “Thanks, luv.”

“Not a problem,” she agreed softly just before she heard him hang up. She hit the off button before leaning back against the restroom counter and taking a deep breath.

 _Okay, Buffy_ , her inner voice demanded, _what the hell are you thinking? ‘Cause not even you are clueless enough to think that you don’t still want him. This is a murder case, way too important to get sidetracked by gooey, lusty feelings. William’s life is on the line here._

She took another breath and turned on the cold water in the sink, splashing it over her face to clear her head. She couldn’t deny that, despite her own personal feelings for her ex, her plan did make some sense. If nothing else, it would facilitate their planning of his defense more smoothly.

Calm and collected once more, she checked her watch. Shit. She’d have to hurry if she wanted to meet Spike at the courthouse on time. She hadn’t realized she’d spent all of twenty minutes debating her position in the bathroom.

She drove with a speed that really probably could have gotten her arrested for reckless endangerment but managed to arrive with exactly one minute to spare. A quick search found Spike sitting in the hallway, looking half-asleep as he leaned against the armrest of the bench.

“Life not been treating you well?” she inquired softly as she approached him.

He started awake. “Took you long enough,” he grumbled under his breath.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m on time,” she pointed out.

He checked his watch and muttered under his breath but didn’t contradict her.

“The car’s out back,” she instructed him. “I’ll go make sure they don’t accidentally arrest you for jumping bail, and you move your stuff in.” She handed him her key ring. “The black beamer with the stuffed cat on the dashboard.”

He nodded gruffly and ran a finger through his chaotic platinum curls. “Right. Be waitin’ then.”

She gave his shoulder a soft squeeze and managed a wan smile before attending to the necessary paperwork. When she finally arrived back at the car, his bags had all been stuffed in the back and he sat in the passenger’s seat, snoring softly. He started when she entered the vehicle beside him and yawned.

“Just how long has this been going on?” Elizabeth asked pointedly, noting the dark circles beneath his eyes.

He shrugged. “Dunno. Been at the office the past two days, and—”

“You need _sleep_ , William,” she cut him off pointedly, pulling out of the parking lot and heading home.

“Yeah,” he yawned again, “kinda noticed that. Need to stay outta jail, too, though.”

“I thought your partners were working on that,” Elizabeth scolded him lightly. “From what I’d gathered, Anya’s doing most of the undercover work, and Xander—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he shook her off. “I know. Promise to be a good boy from now on. _Mother_.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but she couldn’t help the smile that was starting to creep onto her face. “You’re so hopeless,” she declared.

“Completely,” he agreed readily enough. He sat back and closed his eyes after that, leaving her to drive the rest of the way in silence.

Carrying his luggage together, they managed to get everything into her two-story townhouse in one trip. Elizabeth unlocked the door for them, and they dumped all his stuff in the entranceway before closing the door on the chilly October evening.

Spike glanced around at the spacious living room, complete with oak paneling, a large fireplace, and a fine set of leather furniture. “Nice place,” he commented off-handedly, wandering into the kitchen and poking his head in. He whistled. “Big. You live here all alone?”

“Well, with Angel,” she amended, watching him from the hallway.

“That monster hasn’t bitten the dust yet?” he scowled.

Elizabeth shook her head at him. Even back in his William days, he and her cat had been at constant war with each other. It was half the reason they’d always retreated to his place to fool around; that, and he didn’t have a roommate to disturb. “I’m starting to think Angel’s gonna live forever,” she agreed with a small smile. She gestured to the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll just get the guestroom ready upstairs.”

“Right,” he agreed, flopping down onto the furniture and sending several pillows bouncing with his weight.

With one backward glance at her houseguest, Elizabeth climbed the stairs and fetched a fresh set of sheets from the closet. Flannel ones. He liked sleeping on flannel sheets, she recalled. She carefully made the bed, forcing her mind onto the simple task instead of screaming out that she had Spike staying at her home.

She hurriedly went back downstairs to help take up his luggage and order take-out for dinner, but when she returned to the living room, she found him fast asleep on the couch, a dangerous predator hovering over him from the couch back. “Angel,” she scolded lightly, picking up the huge twenty-eight-toed cat and setting him back down on the floor, “none of your silly rivalry tonight.”

The black tomcat raised his nose haughtily, as if even the suggestion that he might do something inappropriate were absurd, and promptly began cleaning his claws.

Elizabeth groaned inwardly and went to use the kitchen phone, dialing the local Chinese take-out place. She hoped Spike still had a fetish for Peking duck because that’s what she was ordering for him. No sooner had she finished making her order, however, than the phone rang again.

“Summers residence,” she said, immediately picking up the receiver.

“Uh, yeah, hi, Buffy,” a male voice said at the other end. “This is Xander Harris, Spike’s partner?”

“Right,” Elizabeth agreed. For some reason, Xander had to introduce himself every time they talked, as if he thought that she constantly forgot who he was or something. “What’s up?”

“Well, I got a call from Spike this afternoon, saying he was staying with you while the press flocked to his place,” Xander went on.

“Um, yeah, he’s here,” Elizabeth agreed, “but he’s asleep right now.”

“All right, then, I’ll just have to tell _you_ ,” Xander agreed with a chuckle. “Anya put some pressure on all our sources that know anything about the Wilkins mob.”

“And?” Elizabeth asked curiously.

“They say the hit on Worth was typical mob payback stuff, for squealing on Trick and all,” Xander verified their suspicions. “Nothing that will hold up in court, though. Just vague rumors.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Figures. Any word on whether they’re the ones who set up William?”

“I can’t be sure,” Xander began hesitantly. “I mean, Anya’s got all sorts of friends in weird places, but none of them are anywhere high up in the syndicate…”

“I understand,” Elizabeth agreed. “Tell me what she _did_ get.”

“Well, rumor has it that Alan Fitch was surprised at Spike’s arrest,” Xander stated. “Maybe.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Which would mean that Wilkins didn’t order the set-up,” she provided.

“Which means I’m gonna start looking into the police department,” Xander agreed. “It’s looking like the best bet right now.”

Elizabeth groaned. “I’ll have a talk with the Internal Affairs Bureau, see if I can shake anything loose that way.”

“Right, then,” Xander agreed. “I’ll call back if anything else comes up.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Elizabeth said before hanging up.

She rolled her neck around on her shoulders, trying to get the tension out before returning to the living room. The sight before her brought her oddly happy mood back, though. Spike still lay across the dark leather, snoring softly, only now Angel had decided to join him. The cat had somehow managed to slither his way under an arm and was currently resting on Spike’s chest, eyes narrowed to contented slits at the warmth of the pillow he had found.

“Is this a truce, then?” she asked Angel pointedly, a smile lighting up her face at the sight of the two men in her life getting along so well. For the moment at least. She had no doubt that the instant Spike woke up, Angel would sink his claws in, and many a feline hiss and “Bloody hell!” would follow.

She reached over to scratch Angel’s ears before unfolding the throw blanket on the armchair. “Whattaya say?” she asked Angel pointedly as she draped the blanket over Spike’s sleeping form. “How about this time we keep him?”

Angel’s only response was to shut his eyes and purr.

Elizabeth tucked in the final corner of the blanket under Spike’s shoulder before venturing to brush one lock of white hair off of his forehead. “This time I’m sticking by you,” she promised softly before heading off to the TV lounge to see just how bad a public relations disaster he had created this afternoon…


	5. First Steps

“And what did you find during your search?” ADA Robin Wood asked pointedly.

“There was a .35 under the driver’s side seat,” Detective Riley Finn answered properly.

“This gun?” Wood held up an evidence bag.

“That’s the one,” Riley agreed.

“Prosecution Exhibit A once more,” Wood clarified.

“Let it be so noted,” Judge Greenberg nodded.

Wood turned back to his witness. “What, if anything, led you to believe that this gun was the murder weapon?”

“I smelled the barrel, and it had been fired recently,” Riley provided. “Two bullets were missing from the chamber. That, and we found Mister Albrook with the body after he had returned the gun to his car.”

“Thank you,” Wood said confidently. “No further questions for this witness.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath to compose herself, smiled inwardly at the comforting squeeze she got on her knee, and rose. “Detective Finn,” she began briskly. “Did you, _personally_ , find my client hovering over Mister Worth’s body?”

Riley frowned slightly. “No,” he admitted, “but my partner, Detective Gates, did.”

Elizabeth nodded and checked her notes. “What _exactly_ happened just prior to Mister Albrook’s arrest?” she demanded.

“We spotted Mister Albrook entering the building. He then came out with a gun and put it in his car before he went back up. We ran in and—”

Elizabeth cut him off. “ _You_ saw him put the gun in the car?” she demanded.

“No, but my partner—”

“Just tell me what you _personally_ experienced that night,” Elizabeth clarified. “Keep everything your partner told you out of it.”

Riley shifted uncomfortably at that, obviously not liking the idea of breaking up the solidarity of his partnership with Detective Gates. “I went down to the corner coffee shop to buy us some sandwiches,” he began. “While I was waiting, Detective Gates called me on my cell phone and reported that he’d seen someone suspicious enter the building with a gun. He said that he was going in with Officer Miller. I hurried back down to 59th street and heard shouting up from Mister Worth’s room. I ran up the stairs and found that my partner and Officer Miller had cuffed and arrested Mister Albrook. They then told me that they’d seen him enter the building less than ten minutes before and then exit again with the weapon. When he returned to the scene of the crime, they arrested him. I helped Officer Miller hold the defendant while Detective Gates ran down to our car to call the ambulance.”

“I see,” Elizabeth agreed. “So, you can’t actually testify that the defendant put that gun in his car, can you?”

“My partner—”

“From your _personal_ observations that night, you cannot testify to this fact. Is that correct?” she repeated.

Narrowed eyes. “Yes,” he admitted grudgingly.

“Your Honor,” Elizabeth turned to Judge Greenberg, “the defense requests that all testimony regarding my client’s handling of the murder weapon be stricken from the record.”

“What?!” Wood exclaimed, rising up in objection.

Judge Greenberg sighed. “Approach,” he requested.

“It’s entirely hearsay, Your Honor,” Elizabeth said calmly, leaning up against the judge’s bench.

“From other law enforcement officers under the witness’ supervision,” Wood amended. “Primary detectives frequently testify as to the evidence discovered by those under their command.”

“But not,” Elizabeth countered, “in a case where the defense position rests upon the agency of _individual_ officers suspected of rigging evidence.”

“These claims are all speculative,” Wood insisted.

“The defense is allowed to present any valid alternatives to the events surrounding the crime,” Elizabeth countered, “including the doctoring of evidence. In which case, this witness is not qualified to testify to what actually occurred.”

“There’s no reason to believe—” Wood began.

“That’s for the jury to determine,” Elizabeth shot back.

“Counselors, please,” Judge Greenberg said wearily. He turned to Wood. “Ms. Summers has a point. If you want Detective Gates or Officer Miller’s statements on the record, call _them_ in to testify.”

A reluctant nod and Wood returned to his seat.

“The jury will disregard all this witness’ testimony regarding the defendant’s possession and disposal of the weapon,” Judge Greenberg instructed the courtroom. “Ms. Summers?”

Elizabeth nodded and turned to question Riley once more. “You found the gun after Detective Gates had been back down to the your car. Is that correct?”

Another surly, “yes.”

“So, to your knowledge, the gun might not even have been in my client’s car when you arrested him?” she concluded.

“I know where you’re going with this—” he began angrily.

“Is it _possible_ that someone else planted the gun in my client’s car while you were busy arresting him?” she insisted.

“It’s _possible_ ,” he grumbled. “But Detective—”

“You’ve answered the question,” Elizabeth cut him off abruptly. “While you had the defendant under arrest, did you have occasion to examine his hands for gun powder residue?”

“It was the first thing I did,” Riley assured her. “There was none.”

“And what did that indicate to you?” she asked pointedly.

Riley sighed. “That the defendant couldn’t have fired the murder weapon without wearing gloves or some other kind of protective covering over his hands,” he answered matter-of-factly.

“And did you find gloves or any other item with powder marks on it?” she inquired.

“No,” he admitted.

“Now, moving along…you say that you found the gun under the driver’s seat?”

“That’s correct,” Riley agreed.

“Where exactly?” Elizabeth demanded.

“Under the seat itself,” Riley answered, “about halfway back.”

“So, you couldn’t see it from a cursory inspection?” she inquired.

“No,” he agreed.

“It was pretty far back.”

He nodded. “Like it had been hidden under the seat.”

“And can you account for the fact that Detective Gates and Officer Miller didn’t hear any shots fired?” she asked.

Riley sighed. “No,” he admitted.

“No silencer of any type was found?” she demanded.

“No,” Riley agreed. “I can’t explain it.”

Elizabeth nodded knowingly. “Just one more thing… You and your partner, Detective Gates, were in charge of arresting Mister Trick for the triple homicide back in June, is that right?”

“Yes,” Riley nodded.

“And the defendant’s testimony was the primary evidence that could have released Mister Trick?”

“That’s right. He testified the day before the shooting,” Riley provided.

“What did you and your partner think about his testimony?” she demanded.

Riley took a deep breath. “That the defendant had probably just gotten our collar off,” he confessed.

“And how would that case stand if the defendant were convicted of this murder?” she pressed.

Some uncomfortable shifting. “It would throw all his other testimony into question,” he conceded.

“Thank you, Detective Finn. The defense has no further questions for this witness.”

“Detective Finn, you may step down,” Judge Greenberg stated. “And, given the late hour, this court will adjourn until nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Dismissed.” The gavel rang through the courtroom.

Elizabeth gave Spike a hopeful smile as he helped pack away all her reports. “That was good,” she informed him.

“What’s all this ‘bout Gates?” he demanded.

“Riley’s a clean cop,” she explained. “Trying to make him out to be a liar is tenuous. But Gates has a bit of a record with—” She cut off at the tap on her shoulder.

“Notice to add Detective Forrest Gates to the prosecution witness list,” Robin Wood informed her curtly, dropping the papers in her hands.

“This got drafted in a hurry,” she commented skeptically.

“You honestly thought I wouldn’t anticipate this move?” Wood countered before turning away from them coldly and exiting the courtroom.

“Ouch,” Elizabeth winced slightly.

Spike snorted. “Don’t need that git anyway, luv,” he assured her. “Spends too much time leerin’ at you.”

Elizabeth gave him a wry smile. “And you don’t?” she countered coyly, leading him out into the hallway.

“’S different when it’s me,” he answered cheekily, raising his sexy scarred eyebrow at her.

She laughed. “I just need to check this,” she waved the witness notification, “so that I can sign my approval.”

“And then we get our witness that we can rip to shreds,” Spike agreed with an evil little grin. “And then I can finally fix my look again.” He ran an unenthusiastic hand through his currently black hair.

“Never thought I’d see the day when you’d say that black doesn’t suit you,” she countered.

“Bloody lawyers,” he grumbled under his breath, knowing that she had him there. “’ll be in the car.”

“I’ll just be a minute,” she assured him, watching him go with a bit of a leer herself. God, she wanted him back. In any other circumstances…

“Quite a show you put on back there,” a gruff voice interrupted her not-so-intellectual introspection.

Elizabeth turned and let out a weary sigh when she saw Riley. “Look,” she began.

“You accused my partner of rigging this case,” he insisted angrily. “What the hell _was_ that?”

Elizabeth felt herself getting mildly irritated as well. “Even you’ve got to admit that the evidence doesn’t quite work out,” she retorted.

“Forrest doesn’t lie to me,” Riley repeated vehemently.

“And William doesn’t lie to me,” Elizabeth said just as confidently.

“I can’t believe you’re siding with _him_ ,” Riley practically spat out. “You’re making your office look bad, the police department, everything you’ve ever fought for.”

“I’ve fought,” Elizabeth corrected, “to keep criminals off the streets. I don’t convict innocents.”

“You can’t possibly know that,” Riley shot back. “If Albrook wasn’t an old flame, do you honestly think you wouldn’t be after his blood right now?”

“Maybe,” Elizabeth conceded, “but if I ever found out he was innocent, I’d let him go.”

“Yeah, well, except for you, the general consensus is that your client’s guilty,” Riley shot back.

“But I _know_ differently,” Elizabeth insisted. “If I wanted to indict Sam…” she began.

“That’s different,” Riley said angrily. “Sam’s my wife.”

“It’s not so different,” Elizabeth concluded. “Not so different at all…”

* * *

 _Buffy let out a hoarse scream as she came, panting desperately for breath as the world crashed around her. Above her, William was moving at an ever more frantic pace, close to his own release._

 _“God, Buffy,” he moaned into her ear, “you’re beautiful, luv, feel like heaven…”_

 _His body tensed above her then for an instant before his jaw clenched in that way that it always did right before he came and he lost complete control of himself, thrusting deep within her wildly._

 _Buffy clung on tight as the tip of his erection pounded sensuously against the soft pleasure center deep within her, and she gasped aloud in amazement as a second, unexpected orgasm overtook her._

 _William came with a roar as well, shooting his seed deep within her womb. He fell atop her in exhaustion for a second, lazy contentment overtaking his body, before he remembered that the woman beneath him needed to breathe. He slipped out of her, already shrinking and softening, and flopped down at her side wearily. A satisfied smile crossed his face as he stretched out his aching limbs and pulled her up against him for some quality snuggling time._

 _“That was how many times for you?” he asked cockily. “Five?”_

 _“Yeah, but I faked them all,” she teased._

 _He scowled at her. “Better give you five more, then,” he concluded, moving to roll her back over onto her back._

 _“William!” she squealed, batting at him playfully with her hands. “Eek! Wet spot!”_

 _“Then tell me you weren’t fakin’ it,” he countered with an evil grin, holding her threateningly over the spoiled spot on the sheets._

 _A soft smile crossed her face. “You know I never have to fake with you,” she assured him._

 _A wide grin lit up his face, and he caught her lips in a passionate kiss before he lay her back down against the warm of his chest._

 _Buffy rolled her eyes. Ever since she’d taught him how to pleasure her, he’d become a man obsessed, insisting that no matter how many times he made her come it could never possibly be as good as what she did to him. Hence, he’d declared a ground rule that he always had to make her come at least three times. Usually more. At least one of which had to be while he was inside her. She had the sneaking suspicion she’d created a monster, but at least she’d created a good, sexually-experienced one._

 _With a little grin, she hugged him tighter and burrowed her nose into the smooth muscles of his chest. God, he was wonderful. The things he did to her… He was unlike anyone else she’d ever been with, as if he alone could light the fire deep within her._

 _“My contented little minx,” he whispered in that growly accent that had become more prevalent lately._

 _Over the past two years, he’d dropped the ultra-formal style, first only when they were alone and passionate together, but then more and more until he finally spoke naturally to everyone but his father, who had forced the precision on him in the first place._

 _Buffy liked the change. If at all possible, it made him sound even sexier. Plus, it had been fun to watch Cordelia drool all over the place when she first heard how the word “luv” rumbled through his lips._

 _“So, I take it classes today were stressful?” she asked lightly, tracing archaic patterns into the pale skin of his chest._

 _He chuckled. “How could you possibly ‘ve guessed?” he teased._

 _“Well, let’s see,” she joked right back, “within five seconds of arriving home I was attacked by Pent Up Frustration made corporeal and was sexual assaulted for the next two hours.”_

 _“Yeah, that would be the stressful day,” he agreed._

 _Buffy sighed. “Tell me about it?”_

 _“Dad called,” he said simply._

 _She arched up against him to place a gentle kiss on his brow. He didn’t talk about his dad often, but she’d gathered enough to know that the Albrook family pressure had been one of the major factors that had caused him to draw back into himself. She considered it one of her crowning achievements that she’d finally pulled him out of his defensive shell, made him a man both literally and figuratively._

 _“What did he want?” Her head rested on the pillow next to his now, her lips just brushing his cheek as she spoke, offering him whatever comfort he wanted._

 _“Still wants me to go back to England after I graduate,” he said dully. “Induct me into the Family Hall of Wankers and all that rot.”_

 _“You’re sure you don’t want me to tell him to fuck off?” she teased._

 _William snorted. “He hates you enough as it is. ‘Unsophisticated Americans’ trying to corrupt me…”_

 _She smiled and kissed him slowly on the lips, her tongue playing against them softly but persistently, demanding access. His lips parted at her request and joined in her passion, savoring touch, taste, scent…_

 _“Do you think William’s a wanker’s name?” he asked abruptly, pulling away from her lips._

 _She raised a curious eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”_

 _“Thinkin’ I need a nickname,” he provided. “Something less poncy.”_

 _“Well,” she said with a sigh, hand snaking down between his legs, “I don’t think William’s a wanker’s name at all.” She gave him a slight squeeze and felt his length twitch within her grasp, still too worn out from their latest lovemaking to become fully erect but enjoying her attentions nonetheless. “If I’ve correctly translated Bizarre British Slang into Normal Human English correctly, then a wanker wouldn’t have a beautiful girlfriend to get him off.”_

 _His eyes shut tight, and he let out an appreciative purr. “Point,” he conceded._

 _“Besides,” she concluded, “I like you just the way you are.”_

 _His eyelashes fluttered open, and he looked up at her with an expression of such abject love that she almost had to turn away from the intensity of it. “Marry me,” he pleaded in a whisper._

 _Buffy’s eyes widened in surprise. He’d always been a bit impulsive, but this… “Y-You’re serious?” she stammered._

 _He shrugged. “Why not?” His arms slid up and down her bare back, sending little tingles down her spine. “I love you, you love me, and we both want to be together.”_

 _She blushed. “Yeah,” she agreed softly, index finger playing gently with his full lower lip._

 _He opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment eighteen pounds of malicious black fur decided to leap onto his stomach. “Oh, bloody hell!” he exclaimed in annoyance, scowling evilly at his foe. “Know I locked you outside…”_

 _Angel’s yellow eyes narrowed, and one by one he extended each of his twenty-eight claws…_

 _Buffy yanked Angel up off of William before World War III could break out. “Don’t be attacking my fiancé now,” she chided the cat with good humor._

 _William’s suspicious eyes left the feline for the first time. “That’s a ‘yes’, then?” A delighted smile lit up the corners of his lips._

 _“After we graduate,” she clarified before nodding eagerly._

 _“Luv…” he practically purred, pressing his lips to hers._

 _“Rrowl!” Angel protested, striking out at William and completely breaking the mood._

 _Buffy giggled while William sulked, gingerly rubbing his arm where the massive feline had scratched him. “Don’t s’pose we could ditch the monster?” he grumbled under his breath._

 _Buffy hugged Angel. “No way I’m giving my Angel up,” she teased. “You want to marry me, then you’ll have to accept my great first love, too.”_

 _William’s eyes narrowed at that assessment. “You’re sure you couldn’t take the pleasant one, and leave this devil with Willow?” he asked in vain hope._

 _“Oz is Willow’s, and Angel is mine,” Buffy insisted, getting up out of bed and carrying the cat over to the door that it had somehow managed to get open. She set Angel down on the floor outside before shutting him out once more. “There,” she concluded, turning back to face him._

 _William licked his lips at the sight of her naked body sauntering back over to the bed. “S’pose I could be…compensated for having to keep the cat,” he commented with a sly smile._

 _“Oh, and how’s that?” she teased, sitting on the end of the bed before slowly crawling up his body._

 _“Think consummating our engagement will do nicely enough for now,” he concluded, pulling her down onto his hardness._

 _“Again?” she said in wide-eyed surprise, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’._

 _“Again,” he agreed, rolling them over before his tongue began to do the most wonderful things to her body, playing her like a finely-tuned harp._

 _Buffy lay back and sighed. Yup, she’d certainly created a monster all right. A monster who had somehow developed the stamina of five men…_

* * *

“So, how’d it go today?” were Xander’s first words as Elizabeth and Spike stepped into the offices of Albrook, Harris, and Jenkins, Private Investigators.

“Not bad,” Spike said with a shrug, plopping down into the corner chair. “We got anything here?”

“Still no luck with the real killer,” Xander shrugged apologetically. “Frankly, I’m not sure we can get him.”

“We should concentrate on the other side of things, then,” Elizabeth suggested, sitting pointedly on the edge of the blonde secretary’s desk and blocking the woman’s scandalously revealing outfit from Spike’s view. Elizabeth had little to no doubt that Harmony was trying to seduce her ex, and even the thought made her blood boil.

“And who put _you_ in charge?” Harmony’s nasal twang demanded. She didn’t like Elizabeth any better than Elizabeth liked her. That lawyer bitch had the nerve to break up with her Blondie Bear and now thought that she could steal him right out from under her nose? Well, she’d show who Spike _really_ loved. The fact that he’d never responded to her advances in any kind of way was just a technicality.

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed at the vapid blonde. “Aren’t you supposed to be answering phones or something?” she snapped back.

Harmony gasped with wide-eyed outrage at the slight and moved to speak again, but she was cut off by the annoyed voice of the other woman in the room.

“If Spike ever decides he wants to have sex with either of you, I’m sure he’ll inform you,” Anya said in annoyance. “Now, can we cut out the bickering and cut back to work? I’ll have you know this assignment is cutting severely into the _paid_ overtime I could be getting for the Tomkins case.”

Elizabeth, Harmony, and Spike all blushed at Anya’s characteristic bluntness, and Xander chuckled, placing one hand in the small of his fiancée’s back.

“Now, what do you need us to do?” Anya demanded, once she’d concluded that the petty in-fighting was over.

“I need background checks on Detective Forrest Gates and Officer Graham Miller,” Elizabeth explained crisply. “It looks like we’re going to have to crack one of them to get at the truth.”

Xander nodded and took notes. “What else?”

“Wood’s got his forensics experts on tomorrow,” she reported. “What do we have on how William’s prints could’ve gotten on that gun?”

A satisfied smile lit up Anya’s face. “Xander and I were working on it last night,” she began, removing an object from her desk drawer and dangling it proudly before her. “With these.”

Elizabeth and Spike blinked at the handcuffs warily. This had all the makings of another of Anya’s ‘too much information’ moments.

“Uh, ‘s nice, pet,” Spike began uncomfortably, “but we don’t really hafta hear about—”

“Yes, you do,” she cut him off matter-of-factly, slapping one of the cuffs onto his wrist.

“Hey!” Elizabeth protested, a hint of jealousy sneaking up inside of her.

“I’m not playing bondage games with your man,” Anya assured her briskly. “I’m just demonstrating how it was done.”

Somewhere deep inside, Elizabeth logically knew that she should object to the assessment of Spike as ‘her man’. But the words sounded so _right_ in her head that she let it pass for the moment. “This had better be good,” she concluded, arms crossed over her chest in irritation.

“It is,” Anya assured her, gesturing for Spike to kneel down on the floor in front of her.

He eyed her suspiciously, but since Xander wasn’t objecting, he figured this was on the up and up. Anya kneed him painfully in the center of the back and forced his face down to the floor.

“Oi!” he exclaimed in outrage. “That hurts!”

Elizabeth watched in fascination, though, as Anya used one hand to press Spike’s hands together to put the second cuff on while the other slipped out the revolver from her holster gingerly and pressed the butt against his squirming fingers for an instant. Spike didn’t even notice, mistaking the cold metal for the cuffs being put on him.

Anya handed Xander the gun after the prints had been doctored. “Show her,” she demanded before uncuffing Spike once more.

“What was that all about?” he grumbled sullenly before Elizabeth gestured to where Xander was now taking prints from the gun.

“They turn out the way the forensics people got the prints,” Xander explained, showing them the weapon. “Even the police report noted that the print placement was odd, not the way they’d look when someone had their finger on the trigger.”

Spike blinked. “You did that while you cuffed me?” he demanded of Anya.

She nodded proudly. “It’s actually a very simple way of doctoring prints. And then, after we’d proven my theory, we used the handcuffs for—”

“Uh, they really don’t need to hear about that, Ahn,” Xander nudged her pointedly.

Anya folded her arms across her chest and mumbled something under her breath that sounded a lot like an insult about how sexually repressed they all were.

Spike’s eyes narrowed at the gun before he handed it back to Anya. “That connivin’ git,” he growled low in his chest. “He was settin’ me up all along…”

Elizabeth put a comforting hand on his forearm, thrilling slightly at the powerful muscles she felt tensing beneath. “We’ll get them for this,” she assured him. “The IAB will be all over Forrest and Graham over this.”

The thought didn’t seem to pacify Spike. “Let’s just go home,” he grumbled.

“Was that what you needed to show me?” Elizabeth inquired, grabbing hold of his sleeve and keeping him from going until they were done.

Anya nodded. “I’m back to the underworld,” she agreed in a chipper voice.

“And I’ll get everything we can on Gates and Miller,” Xander promised. “You two just worry about the trial.”

Elizabeth spared him a grateful smile before following Spike’s persistent urges and heading back for the car. He was silent during the drive, jaw muscle ticking angrily, and the urge to hold him until he relaxed in her arms was nearly overwhelming. She managed to refrain, though; Spike hugging would probably fall very neatly on the list of Top Ten Driving Distractions.

And once they got home – and just when had she started thinking of it as _their_ home, anyway? – Spike had trudged right upstairs to the guestroom, denying her the opportunity to offer him comfort. She bit her lip as she checked through her mail and refilled Angel’s water dish. She could understand why he was upset, really she could. Even though he had known all along that he’d been framed, finding out how actively maliciously the evidence had been planted against him had to be rough.

She just wished that he wouldn’t pull away from her and be all secretive about the stuff that was troubling him. After all, it had happened before and…

“Ahhh! Buffy, help!”

The sudden shout nearly gave her a heart attack. “What is it?” she demanded, approaching the bottom of the stairs.

“There’s somethin’ wrong with your cat!” he called back down in alarm.

Elizabeth felt a momentary pang of worry at that and rushed up the stairs and into his room before she breathed a sigh of relief. Angel was quite well and circling Spike’s booted ankles incessantly, purring all the while.

“He’s not tryin’ to claw me or anythin’,” Spike insisted, wide-eyed. “Think he might’ve hit his head or something. ‘S the only explanation.”

Elizabeth laughed at that and saved Spike from the suddenly amorous cat. “Maybe he’s just finally decided he likes you,” she countered.

“Yeah, and hell’s frozen over,” he shot back, sitting on the edge of the bed.

She sat down beside him, and Angel settled comfortably in her lap. “Maybe he missed you when you were gone,” she suggested shyly.

He seemed to catch a double-meaning in her words and looked down at his hands. “Yeah,” he commented non-commitally.

Elizabeth ventured to reach up and brush an ebony curl back from his forehead. “If you need to talk about anything…” she began hesitantly.

“Yeah,” he sighed, turning slightly into her touch. “I-I hate to sound pathetic…” he began slowly.

“You won’t,” she assured him softly.

He nodded curtly. “Why me?” he finally demanded, looking at her with eyes so clear and blue they still took her breath away.

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “Maybe you were just the easiest target.”

“Hate this,” he grumbled, getting up and heading to the bathroom.

Elizabeth rose at that as well, taking her cue. “I know,” she agreed. A pause. “I’m so sorry, William.”

He froze in the doorway for a second as if the words had stunned him speechless for a second. Then, “’m sorry, too.” He turned back to face her, eyes wide and vulnerable…and yawned.

Elizabeth smiled. “You need to get some rest,” she concluded, hefting Angel over her shoulder and walking back out into the hallway.

“Yeah, I prob’ly do,” he admitted, leaning against the frame casually and watching her every moment with undisguised want. “G’night.”

“Good night,” she agreed, giving his hand one final squeeze before she carried Angel back downstairs to his dinner, excited butterflies in her stomach and an extra spring in her step…


	6. Unspoken Words

“Am I gonna have to carry you in?” Spike only half-teased as he turned off the car outside Elizabeth’s house.

In the passenger seat, Elizabeth yawned and stretched. “No, I’m good,” she insisted, moving to get up. She fumbled with the seatbelt for a minute and by the time she’d finished, Spike had opened the door for her and already gathered up all her bags from the backseat. _Mmm, gentleman nice when tired_ , she noted absentmindedly.

“Seemed to go well today,” he commented casually, making small talk as they walked up the back porch steps. He pulled out the copy of the house key that she’d had made for him and held the door open wide, gesturing for her to precede him inside. “Got the bloke to admit that I might not’ve fired the bloody gun…”

“That’s what I love about forensic scientists,” Elizabeth agreed. “They always just stick to the facts.”

“Lucky that detective din’t manage to find a way to get my prints on the trigger,” Spike grumbled, setting down her briefcase in the entrance hallway and her purse on its shelf in the kitchen.

Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile at the casual familiarity he had in her home now. Almost as if he belonged here. Like it was _his_ , too…

A loud purr sounded throughout the corridor, and Elizabeth reached down to scratch Angel behind the ears. “Can you…?” she requested softly.

Spike let out a good-natured sigh. “Right, ‘ll feed the monster,” he agreed in his most put-upon voice. “C’mon, you poof,” he addressed the cat, heading into the kitchen.

Elizabeth laughed at the angry scowl Angel sent Spike’s way at being bossed around. “Yeah, yeah, he’s insufferable,” she assured the cat, “but he’ll catch on eventually.”

Reluctantly, Angel padded into the kitchen in search of his meal.

Elizabeth flicked on the living room lights and found the red light on her answering machine blinking, three unread messages left there. She hit the talk button while kicking off her shoes to stretch her feet out.

*click, _beep_ * “Buffy, it’s Anya,” came the crisp voice of the private detective. “It turns out Officer Miller’s recently been transferred down to Baltimore. Xander’s going to drive down this afternoon and follow up.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at that and pulled out a notebook to jot the information down.

*click, _beep_ * “Ms. Summers, this is Valerie Carver from the Post. I would like to schedule an interview with you and your client, Mister Albrook, to—”

Elizabeth reached over and hit the delete button vehemently. The reporter requests had gone down since the press had lost track of William’s location, but she always got at least one a day.

The machine cycled again.

*click, _beep_ * “Buffy? Yeah, it’s me, Xander?” a somewhat hassled-sounding voice began. “Spike’s partner, remember?”

Elizabeth couldn’t help but roll her eyes. One of these days she was going to have to convince Xander that, yes, she actually _did_ remember who he was…

“Anyway,” the message went on, “I’m down here in Baltimore. It turns out Graham Miller’s got a patrol beat down here. He requested a transfer just a week after Spike was arrested, and I’ve _never_ seen police bureaucracy process a request this fast. So, yeah, I found him, but he refuses to comment. Vehemently. Thought he might take my arm off for a second there when I mentioned that Gates was rigging the evidence. Got a few nasty threats, too, to add to my collection.”

Elizabeth’s pen began scrambling like mad, adding several question marks after Graham’s name in regard to his relationship to the frame-up.

“I’m just keeping a casual eye on him for now,” Xander went on. “I can give you more later, and you can let me know what you want to do. My cell’s been dying, but I’ll give Ahn my motel number once I check in. You can get everything from her. Good luck in court.”

* _beep_ * “PLAY MESSAGES AGAIN?” asked the computerized voice.

Elizabeth hit the stop button and sighed. Xander’s subtle rambling suggested the same thing she was thinking. Graham had been present when Spike had been set up, and he’d probably seen the whole thing. He’d then been speedily reassigned out of state and wasn’t talking. It felt like maybe Officer Miller didn’t feel quite right about what had happened with this case. She certainly hoped so.

Elizabeth picked up the receiver and hit Spike’s office on the speed-dial, leaving a quick message at Harmony’s desk that she would be subpoenaing Graham for their defense. Since Anya wouldn’t get the message until morning, she couldn’t really deal with anything on the investigation end until then. That just left her with one subpoena to draft tonight. Wearily, she picked up her briefcase and headed into the kitchen to use the table there for her work.

“What’s up, pet?” Spike asked curiously, pouring himself a glass of water from the sink while Angel munched merrily away at his dinner in the corner.

“It looks like we might have a witness against Forrest,” she provided. “I’ve just got to drag him in and make him talk…”

“This that other cop that was there to arrest me?” Spike inquired curiously, head tilted to one side. “Miller?”

Elizabeth nodded. “That’s the one,” she agreed, rubbing at her eyes and hunching down over the form before her.

He sipped from the glass in his hand for a minute, watching her work, her brow furrowed in concentration and her eyelids drooping slightly. Angel leapt up onto the countertop beside him and studied his pet human as well. Spike cast the cat a surprised look, thinking for one second that they were actually on the same wavelength, but then Angel promptly turned to grooming his fur. Honestly, the feline spent nearly every aching hour attending to its fur. Spike rolled his eyes and wound his way around the table so that he could watch Elizabeth’s work over her shoulder.

She wasn’t really paying enough attention to notice his closeness until she suddenly felt two strong hands drop to her shoulders, massaging the tight muscles there sensuously. She let out a little moan of approval as she felt the weary tension seep out of her spine, and for a minute she let her head rest back against the taut muscles of his stomach, savoring his scent, his touch…

“Buffy-luv?” he asked softly, finding a particularly nasty knot at the back of her skull. Her head lolled forward appreciatively in response, letting him work out the tight pain.

“Mmm?” she asked softly.

“Think maybe you should just rest up this evenin’,” he suggested carefully, knowing how snippy she could get when she was exhausted…

* * *

 _With a groan, Buffy trudged up the stairs to her apartment, backpack full of library books weighing down one arm and all her notes and files from the latest Assignment From Hell Giles had given her in a large Xerox box, balanced on the other hand. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she hit the last step, and she set the box and bag down on the floor to rest for a minute._

 _And that’s when she saw him._

 _“William?” she asked curiously, spotting an unfamiliar platinum head on top of the oh-so-familiar body of her fiancé._

 _“There you are, luv,” he looked up with a start, obviously having grown bored from waiting for so long a time. He stood up among the half dozen boxes that surrounded him._

 _Buffy blinked at them in surprise. “What’s going on here?” she demanded, unlocking the door to her and Willow’s apartment. She frowned. “And what on earth did you do to your hair?”_

 _A nervous look crossed his face, and he reached up to brush back one recently-platinum curl. “You don’t like it?” he asked, disappointed, before shaking his head and getting back on topic. “Need to hole up here for a few days,” he provided._

 _Buffy blinked at that. “Um…okay. Just a thought, though. Maybe a week before we take the bar isn’t the best time to move in together? And, frankly, your apartment’s nicer, anyway.”_

 _He scowled at that and collapsed on the couch wearily. “Don’t have an apartment,” he countered, sulking. “Got evicted this morning.”_

 _Buffy’s eyes widened. “What happened?” she demanded._

 _“Fought with da. He revoked the rent,” he said simply, not offering any of the details._

 _“Doesn’t your dad know about the test next week?” Buffy exclaimed in outrage. “How does he expect you to study when—”_

 _“Not takin’ the test,” William cut her off, studying his hands intently, an unreadable expression on his face. “Sort of what the fight was about.”_

 _Buffy frowned at that. “What do you mean you’re not taking it?” she asked anxiously._

 _He looked up at her, his blue gaze surprisingly steady. “Dropped out of this hellhole,” he answered matter-of-factly. “I’m not putting up with daddy’s whims anymore.”_

 _Buffy could’ve sworn that she felt her heart stop beating for a second. Dropped out? He couldn’t really mean that. They had plans, a life, a wedding that was supposed to happen after they graduated together, and… “Wh-What?” she stuttered in disbelief._

 _“Told you this place was driving me up the wall,” he retorted, steady eyes refusing to let her break his confidence. “You said I should be my own man, lead my own life.”_

 _“By dropping out?!” she exclaimed, dumbfounded. “What, are you crazy? This is_ your life _we’re talking about here! You’re not supposed to let the dumb teenage rebellion screw your life up once you’ve got everything worked out!”_

 _“‘Dumb’?!” He repeated back in outrage, instantly on his feet._

 _“I-I just meant…” she cut off, still baffled as to where all this rage was coming from. Yeah, they’d both been really busy over the past month what with graduation looming up on them and all, but they’d still spent at least one night a week together. She couldn’t image how something could’ve gotten this far without her knowing about it, without him confiding in her…_

 _“What?” he asked wearily. “What did you mean, Buffy? You tell me you want me to step out on my own, but then the instant I do something you don’t like…”_

 _“I do,” she insisted, “but not like this!”_

 _“Like what, then?” he retorted._

 _She was getting annoyed now. “Like, maybe,_ thinking _about something for a change, instead of just diving in impulsively and doing the stupid thing?”_

 _“Stop calling me stupid!” he shouted back angrily. “And I’ve been thinking about this for_ years _now,” he insisted._

 _“Well, not very hard, obviously,” she shot back, “since you’re sitting out in my hallway, homeless, with nowhere else to turn to and no future whatsoever.”_

 _“Was just talking to Xander,” he practically growled, hands balling into fists. “We’re thinking—”_

 _“Oh, please,” Buffy rolled her eyes, cutting him off. She’d never exactly been sure where he’d met Xander, an ex-security guard who’d barely even graduated from high school, but the two of them had come up with the ridiculous ideas that they were going to be detectives together someday, like in one of those old movies. “It’s time to grow up, William,” she informed him tersely. “That’s a cute dream you’ve got. Really, it is. But in the grown up world, you need an actual_ job _, not just some game you play with your drinking buddy.”_

 _His eyes narrowed to slits, and his jaw ticked angrily. “That’s all any of this is to you, isn’t it?” he countered in a deadly whisper. “Just poor, geeky William and his delusions.” A sound like a choked sob escaped his lips, but to his credit he managed not to cry. “I thought you supported me, cared about me, about what_ I _wanted to do with my life.” He pushed her angrily aside and stalked out the door. “Fine then, have it your way. I’ll just get out of your way and stop ruining all_ your _selfish plans.”_

 _Buffy seethed at that comment. “Go right ahead,” she snapped back angrily, watching his back as he left. “I don’t need you, anyway. Maybe when you finally grow up, if you’re lucky, I’ll take you back. But you’re right, I don’t have the time for your games right now.” The top of his platinum head was vanishing down the bottom of the steps now. “I’ve got_ more important _things to worry about!” she shouted out after him as the door slammed behind him._

 _And William managed to make it all the way to the corner before the tears finally overcame him, and shaking sobs began raking through his body. God, what had he done?_

* * *

“I’ve got work to do,” Elizabeth whispered softly, savoring the feel of his hands on her back, not realizing until now just how much she’d ached for his touch over those long, lonely years.

“Not on a Friday night,” he countered. “Got plenty of time this weekend to worry about all that.”

“But—” she began, turning to face him.

His cut her off with a fingertip to her lips. Inwardly, he felt like his blood was burning at even so casual a touch. Her lips were just as soft and tender as he’d remembered, and he wanted nothing more at that moment than to… He shook himself and forced his mind to remain on topic. “I’ll even help you with it,” he offered.

Elizabeth bit her lip. “I thought you hated all that ‘lawyer stuff’,” she countered cautiously.

“Do,” he agreed, “but we’re in this together, right?”

A soft smile curved up the edges of her lips, and she could feel her pulse racing at their nearness. “Right,” she agreed, rising to her feet. “I mean, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to take a break just for tonight.”

He nodded. “Won’t have my—” He halted, wincing at the word that had been about to slip out. He’d foolishly given up the right to call her his girl years ago. “—My attorney killin’ herself over this case,” he amended slightly.

Elizabeth nodded almost shyly, all too aware of the few scant inches that separating their bodies now as they stood facing each other. She had been so certain for an instant there that he’d been about to say something else. There was just something in the depths of his eyes… “I’ll just see to dinner, and—”

“ _I’ll_ take care of dinner,” he insisted, fingers reaching up to push back one lock of her golden hair that had escaped her bun. “You just find something comfy to wear and settle down in the den for a relaxin’ evening.”

“Thanks,” she agreed, reaching up to plant an affectionate kiss on his cheek before she’d even had time to think about the consequences.

His eyes widened in response, and they stood there for a minute, just staring into each other’s eyes and blushing slightly.

The sound of a deep purr eventually snapped Elizabeth from her trance, and she glanced down to see that Angel was making figure-eights around their ankles, as if encouraging their closeness.

Spike noticed at the same time and took a reluctant step back away from her. “Your cat is bloody weird,” he informed her, teasing lightly. “Now, up.” He swatted her butt lightly. “You’ve had a difficult day. Need to veg a bit, ‘ll bet.”

She managed the necessary mock-scowl at the blatant ass grab, but smiled as she climbed the stairs, a feeling of strong contentment overcoming her. This all felt so nice, so domestic, coming home with Spike, planning dinner together, their evening… God, this was what she’d wanted all along. Ever since…

* * *

 _Buffy had been mad – furious – when William had left her apartment. And she had held on to that anger as long as she could, insisting in her head that she was right and he was being unreasonable and…_

 _And no matter how hard she tried, the anger couldn’t last more than an hour before she just needed to see him again, make everything all right once more._

 _She’d been in a bit of a panic at first. She had no idea how to get a hold of him, now that he no longer needed to report his address to the school and he’d been kicked out of his apartment. But then she’d remembered about his comments that Xander was helping him out. She’d gone into a wild search for Xander’s phone number after that, until she finally found the note on the back of one of her notebooks._

 _Nervous, tense, and forlorn, she’d dialed the number, hearing the phone ring one time. Two, three, four, five…_

 _*click,_ beep _* “This is Xander Harris and William Albrook’s place. We’re not here at the moment, but leave a message after the beep and we’ll promptly ignore it.” Xander chuckled._

 _Buffy’s eyes widened. He’d_ already _moved in with Xander to the point where his name was on the machine message? The beep sounded. “William,” she exclaimed in exasperation, “what on earth are you thinking?! I mean—”_

 _She shook her head and took a deep breath to calm herself._

 _“I’m sorry, baby,” she said more softly this time. “It’s just that I’ve had a really rough day – I guess you have, too – and I was just shocked and all and… I just reacted badly, William. B-But I’m really sorry, and I still love you more than anything. Can we please…?” She had to trail off to wipe away the tears in her eyes before she could continue. “Can we just talk about it?” she pleaded again. “I-I want to see you, help make this all work out for us. We’ll figure this all out together. OK, baby? Just come over tonight, and don’t worry about disturbing my studying for that silly test. We’re more important than that…” She trailed off with a slight sigh. “See you tonight,” she whispered affectionately. “Love you.”_

 _With a relieved smile, she hung up the phone. She always found apologizing so hard, but it would be worth it just to feel his arms around her again. They’d had their fights before, of course. Every couple did. But they always made up right away and worked things out as best they could, and she had no doubt that this time would be exactly like all the others._

 _With a sigh, she put her books in the corner – she had little hope that she’d manage to get any studying done before she saw him again – and turned on the TV, finding some mindless old movie. They always loved to watch these together, and it would help her from dwelling on his absence too much while she waited…_

 _And waited._

 _And waited._

 _And, three days later when she still hadn’t heard back from him, the anger finally began to build in her again, and she turned to burying herself in her work with an almost feverish intensity in a desperate effort to hold back her tears…_

* * *

Elizabeth came down the stairs, golden hair hung loose about her shoulders wearing a baggy Harvard t-shirt, a pair of black leggings she used for pajama bottoms, and thick, fuzzy socks on her feet. Already she was beginning to feel more relaxed, and the smell of hot food just warmed her heart further.

“Whadja make?” she asked casually, gliding into the den with a dancer’s grace and plopping down beside Spike on the plush couch. “Oh, cheesy!”

Spike grinned at her comment but gulped when he looked up at her for the first time. Her pants clung to the lean lines of her thighs and calves, and the faint outline of her nipples could be seen through the t-shirt. He’d managed to change out of the monkey-suit he had to wear to court while she was doing those endless, mysterious things that made a woman take so long to change, and now he was regretting the jeans because he was hardening uncomfortably against them.

Elizabeth, oblivious to her couch companion’s dilemma, blew on her cup of tomato soup before taking a bite out of her grilled (well, technically, _microwaved_ ) cheese sandwich. “And you even remembered how I like them,” she said in delight, giving him a fond smile and a squeeze on the knee.

He ducked his head shyly at the compliment, his entire body feeling more excited than it had in years at just her casual touches. There hadn’t been much contact between them in this last month living together. He’d ached to reach out for her so often, but he’d always held back out of fear that she would reject him again. But now…

“How could I possibly forget the only nutty bird in the world who wants grilled cheese with Swiss?” he teased back lightly. “Crazy Americans…” He scootched up next to her on the couch and wiped away a droplet of the soup that had escaped her mouth, savoring his brief contact with her skin.

Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed. “Crazy Brits who want _American_ cheese, of all bizarre things,” she shot right back, eyes dancing with merriment.

“No cultural rule on cheese preferences,” he countered, sitting back on the sofa and letting his free arm drift to seat back behind her.

She merely grinned and flicked on the TV, scanning right by all the news channels for once. “I’m thinking I need a break from the depressing world,” she commented, putting her soupspoon down for a minute as she searched for something good on. The sounds of a gunfight and a dust-filled desert flashed across the screen, and she sat back against the curve of Spike’s arm contentedly, eating her dinner. “Ah, westerns… The best way to kill brain cells.”

Spike chuckled at that as well, and they continued to eat in silence, bodies barely touching. God, he’d missed this. For so long he’d dreamed of being this close to her again, and now… Why, oh why, couldn’t they have worked it out before?

* * *

 _William saw the blinking light on the answering machine and cautiously played the message._

 _“William,” Buffy’s exasperated voice began, “what on earth are you thinking?! I—”_

 _Angrily, he hit the stop button. His day had been lousy enough already without hearing her yell at him again. In a fit of rage, he hit the delete button, and Buffy’s passionate plea was lost forever, never even to be heard._

 _“Okay,” Xander said with a sigh, watching his friend kick the couch angrily, “I think maybe you need to calm down and—”_

 _“Calm down?!” William exclaimed in outrage. “I open up to that woman, thinking she understands, and…” He trailed off helplessly._

 _Xander watched, shifting uncomfortably. He wasn’t good at this touchy-feely stuff. That had always been what William went to Buffy for. The two of them, they just talked about starting up an agency and cars and…all that guy stuff. “Maybe you should call her,” Xander suggested, “try to explain—”_

 _“She owes me an apology,” William insisted vehemently, arms crossed over his chest. “Not calling ‘til I get one.”_

 _Xander rolled his eyes. Great, the stubbornness was kicking in now. Why did he suddenly have the dread feeling that this was going to take a long time to resolve? “All right, sure,” he agreed, playing the role of amiable friend. “Just sleep on it. See what you think in the morning.”_

 _And William did sleep on it, but all he could think about was how much he missed waking up by her side. The phone had looked mighty tempting all that day, but he’d held off every time, silently hoping that she’d at least try to understand…_

 _By the third day, he finally couldn’t take it anymore and dialed her up._

 _“Hello?”_

 _God, how he’d missed the sound of her voice. What on earth had he been thinking, waiting this long to call her? “Buffy-luv,” he said softly, the words sounding like music to his ears._

 _A moment of silence on the other end. Then, “Oh. It’s you. I suppose you’ll want those boxes you left outside my door.”_

 _He blinked, stunned by her coldness. Surely she hadn’t really decided to drop him just because he’d quit law school? “I don’t care about the boxes,” he shook his head, trying to fight against the tears. “W-We need to talk.”_

 _A sigh. “I think you’ve already made yourself pretty clear, William,” she replied tersely. “All your stuff is stacked outside my door. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bother me again._ Some _of us are actually still taking the bar exam on Friday.”_

 _A click._

 _And he felt his world crashing down around him. This just couldn’t be happening. She’d_ encouraged _him to try new things, to explore himself. God, she’d made him the man he had always been meant to be. And now that she saw what he really was, she didn’t love him anymore?_

 _Wet, round tears spilled from the corners of his eyes, and he finally completely broke down. Of course, she hadn’t really loved him. After all, no one did…_

 _And,  absorbed in his own misery, he didn’t leave his room for a week…_

* * *

The burn of her rejection still stung him, even now, and he didn’t venture to move closer, no matter how much his body screamed for the contact. However, at that moment, Angel decided to make his dark, hulking presence known and leapt right up into Spike’s lap.

Spike froze for a minute, wide-eyed. The cat’s sharp claws were only a quick extension away from the most sensitive portion of his anatomy. He held his breath, flinching inwardly at the thought of just one of those claws reaching out and snagging him through the material of his jeans.

Elizabeth, entirely unconcerned by this turn of events, reached over to pet Angel. She set her empty soup bowl down on the coffee table and curled up against Spike’s side, savoring a bit of quality time with her two favorite men in the world.

Spike looked down in surprise to see the golden head that now rested on his shoulder. Unbidden, a smile started to sneak up on his face as he dropped his arm down from the couch back until his hand rested comfortably in the small of her back.

Elizabeth purred almost as loudly as Angel in response, kissing the fabric of Spike’s t-shirt affectionately. Her hand continued to stroke the cat.

Spike felt himself growing uncomfortable for a different reason as he watched Elizabeth stroke the creature in his lap. He was pretty confident now that Angel had no malicious intent toward his bits, but if those bits started moving…

Abruptly, Angel got up, lifted one paw to lick it clean and show Spike the claws that could’ve just made his life excruciatingly painful, and leapt down to the floor.

Absentmindedly, Elizabeth’s hand came to rest against Spike’s inner thigh as she continued to cuddle against his warmth. She shut her eyes for a second, committing this moment to memory. She’d missed him so much, and to have him close like this again… It was what she had wanted all along…

His heart skipped a beat when the cat left, but Elizabeth stayed curled against him. She felt so warm and alive, and he felt the overwhelming urge to keep her safe and close. God, he’d missed her so much, and to be with her this like again… He had wanted this all along…

* * *

 _“Oh,” Buffy felt her heart sink when she stepped from her apartment to find William lifting one of the boxes stacked there, “it’s you.” God, he looked even better than she’d remembered. She was beginning to think that maybe she’d been hasty in her judgment of the hair. It gave him a kind of sexy edge that had been absent before, and the long leather coat and black clothes he was wearing just made the effect more striking. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him so…edible…_

 _“Uh yeah,” William looked nervously down at the box in front of him. Despite all his treasured memories and every photo he had, he’d never imagined she could look this beautiful. It seemed like there was a light glowing from within her, and it drew him like a moth to a flame, all the more now because he knew that if he got too close he’d be burned…_

 _“So, you moved in with Xander?” Buffy inquired, nodding to the other man as he carried one of the boxes down the stairs._

 _Xander nodded back and inwardly rolled his eyes at stubborn people._

 _“Yeah, sure,” he countered defensively. “Why not?”_

 _She bit her lip, trying to force herself not to plead with him to come back to her, to keep whatever little dignity she had left._ Guess now that he’s picked up a cool new look and all, he doesn’t need me anymore _, a hurt voice in the back of her mind whispered. “No reason,” she countered out loud. “Just making small talk.”_

 _“Right…” he trailed off, disappointed at how distant she was acting. Somewhere deep inside, he’d hoped this would all just work itself out when they saw each other again._

 _“Yeah,” she shrugged. God, she’d half hoped that all he’d have to do was see how miserable she was without him, and he’d forget everything, and they could be together again…_

 _“If you’re ever lookin’ for a bit of fun at a bachelor pad…” he practically purred out the innuendo. He didn’t know where it had come from. It was just that his desire for her had slipped out, while his emotions had remained locked up tight behind the defensive barrier he’d put up. Almost instantly an apology came to his lips._

 _“You wish,” Buffy retorted coldly. Inwardly, she was shattered, however. It had never been like this between them before. Sex, desire, lust, yes, but always with their genuine love for each other behind it. God, how could this have happened?_

 _The apology froze on his lips at her harsh words. “Right, then,” he picked up the last box. “So long, Buffy.”_

 _“Bye, William,” she tried to sound unconcerned._

 _“’S Spike now,” he corrected before leaving her building for good._

 _Buffy shut the door behind her and felt the tears slip down her cheeks._

 _Willow instantly offered her a friendly hug, the silent thought in her head,_ Oh my god, they’re both complete idiots…

 _Spike broke down in the passenger seat of the car as Xander drove them back to his apartment. With a weary sigh, he also came to the same conclusion,_ Both complete, stubborn idiots. No wonder they’re so right for each other…

* * *

“Spike?” Elizabeth whispered softly, snuggling deeper into the strong arms that surrounded her.

“Yes, luv?” he inquired, venturing to place a soft kiss on the crown of her head. “And you can call me William. Don’t mind, y’know…”

“William…” she smiled. “Do you think maybe we could lie down?”

He nodded and settled himself down along the length of the couch while Elizabeth snatched up a blanket from the armchair. He’d meant to turn on his side so that she could lie in front of him, but she defeated that purpose by lying down right on his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin.

For a minute, they just lay together like that, both thinking that this was the best they’d ever felt since they last made love.

“This okay?” Elizabeth inquired nervously.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I mean, no… I mean… ‘S better’n ‘okay’, luv.”

She smiled up at his nervous babbling. She hadn’t heard him do that since before she’d first kissed him. In fact, she became increasingly aware now that their lips were actually only millimeters apart. All she’d have to do is lean down and…

He beat her to it. One hand twined through her hair, bringing her down to him, and their lips met in a soft, innocent kiss. Both their eyes shut instinctively, bodies collectively crying out, “At last!” Their mouths lingered on each other, never opening wide enough to deepen their kiss, but just savoring this most basic of contacts.

When they finally did break apart, they each found themselves as breathless as even the most strenuous of exercises had always left them.

“Mmm,” Elizabeth managed to whisper lazily, “why haven’t we done this before?”

“Because you broke up with me?” Spike sighed, admitting the hard truth.

Elizabeth frowned and froze for a second. “No, I didn’t,” she insisted. “ _You_ broke up with _me_.”

“I bloody well did not!” he retorted vehemently. “Made the begging phone call for us to get back together and everything!”

“ _I_ made the begging phone call!” Elizabeth insisted.

“This isn’t funny,” he countered. “Not like the ‘which one of us first asked the other out’ argument.”

“I’m serious,” she exclaimed. “I-I called you to tell you how much I loved you and…” She fought back the sniffle. “…You never called back.”

“I never got the call,” he insisted defensively. “And _I_ called _you_ to tell you much I love you, and you just hung up on me.”

“I didn’t know you were going to tell me you loved me,” she countered. “I-I thought…” She trailed off, teary eyed.

“ _I_ thought…” he retorted at the same time, getting choked up as well.

They froze, looking into each other’s eyes, a meeting of passionate hazel and deep blue.

“You loved me all along?” Spike finally managed to ask in a quiet voice, sounding almost scared to expose himself to her again.

“How could I ever stop loving you?” she whispered back rhetorically, placing a reassuring kiss on his brow. “Y-You always loved me?”

“With every breath I take,” he assured her vehemently.

“Then why did we…?”

“Xander said we were being—”

“—Idiots,” she filled in. “That’s what Willow said…”

A moment of silence as they each contemplated what this meant to them. Neither had gone unloved, rejected. They’d both misunderstood, misinterpreted, and…

“William?” Elizabeth whispered softly.

“Yes, luv,” he murmured contentedly, arms holding her close.

“Kiss me again?”

“Got a lot of lost time to make up for,” he agreed before their lips joined in passionate union once more, bodies intertwining as their tongues found each other and explored, making love to each other the way they’d both secretly dreamed of doing for all these years…

Angel sat back quietly on his haunches, watching contentedly as his two pet humans finally fell asleep in each other’s arms. He’d become aware quite some time ago that his female was lonely for a mate, and even though this male had absolutely no respect for his proper role as domesticated house-pet, Angel had decided to keep him around this time for the female’s happiness. After all, happy pets meant lots of food and treats for him.

Satisfied that he’d finally managed to acquire a suitable companion for his favorite human, he slipped out into the night. It was a relief that he’d finally managed to draw the two of them together now. Really, they were the most thick-skulled creatures on the face of the earth.

Ah well, now they could have strong, healthy, thick-skulled kittens together, and he wouldn’t have to worry about them anymore. After all, he didn’t have time to try to nudge foolish humans in the right direction all the time. All sorts of dangers lurking about in the darkness that he had to hunt down and take care of. Set on his proper mission once more, Angel vanished silently into the darkness…


	7. Pleas

“Officer Miller,” Elizabeth sat down in the seat of her office across from him, “so nice of you to come.”

Officer Graham Miller shifted uncomfortably in his seat, refusing to look at her. “You made me come,” he pointed out matter-of-factly. “And I don’t see why. I’m not any kind of defense witness…”

Elizabeth allowed no emotion to flicker across her face at that. “You were present when my client, Mister Albrook, was arrested, were you not?” she inquired, opening a file folder in front of her and searching through it as if she were anything less than certain on this point.

Graham sighed. “Yeah,” he agreed.

“You and Detective Gates,” Elizabeth pointed her finger to the appropriate lines in the police report. “Just the two of you…”

“Detective Finn, too,” Graham insisted.

“Well, see, that’s not quite true,” she retorted with a smile. “Detective Finn was waiting in line for coffee when the murder went down. He arrived on the scene well after Mister Worth’s death.”

Graham couldn’t argue with that. “Yeah, that’s how it happened,” he agreed.

“So,” Elizabeth went on, “the only witnesses who saw my client put the gun back in his car were Detective Gates and yourself, is that right?”

A momentary shift in Officer Miller’s gaze. “Right,” he agreed after only a second’s hesitation.

Elizabeth picked up on it, though. This was definitely a cop that had been ordered to tow the party line. “So, why don’t you describe for me the events of that night?” She pulled out the police report and pointedly set it down in front of her. “In your own words.”

An exasperated sigh. “You’ve got Detective Gates’ report,” he protested. “I don’t see why you need me to tell you all this again.”

Elizabeth leaned forward on her elbows, exposing a bit of cleavage, and put on her most unassuming smile. “Humor me?” she requested with that sweet innocence that had always gotten her swift and easy cooperation from the police.

Graham was no less immune than the rest of the force. “We saw Albrook go up, then come back down with the gun. He left the gun in his car, and then went back up. Detective Gates and I went up after him, found him over Worth’s body, and we arrested him. Finn showed up then and took over the crime scene. I stayed on guard over Albrook until back up arrived, then I was called down to the station for shift change. That’s all I know.”

Elizabeth nodded and flipped through the pages of her report. “That seems to all check out,” she agreed. “Only… You saw my client put the gun in his car?” she asked, not reproaching in the slightest.

“I did, ma’am,” Graham agreed with a nod.

Elizabeth bit her lip and affected a puzzled expression. “He was wearing gloves when he dropped it off then, wasn’t he?” she concluded.

Graham frowned. “I… Yes, he was,” he concluded.

“That’s what I thought,” she nodded slowly. “Because, see,” she pushed the print photos over to him, “my client’s prints are nowhere near the trigger. And he had no powder marks on his hands. So he must’ve been wearing gloves for the actual shooting, and then taken them off when he dropped the gun off in his car.”

Graham nodded. “That’s right,” he confirmed.

Elizabeth sighed. “So, did he take the gloves back with him, then?” she asked curiously.

Graham frowned at that.

“Well, they weren’t in his car,” she provided sweetly. “So, he must’ve taken them back upstairs with him, right?”

“Right…” Graham agreed hesitantly.

“But, then, they weren’t on him when he was arrested… Where do you suppose he left them in the meantime?” She flashed him her brightest smile.

“Don’t know,” he grumbled sullenly.

“And why do you suppose he removed them in the first place?” She pretended to be thinking out loud. “I mean, he has the common sense to wear them while he shoots Worth, but then takes them off to get his prints on the gun anyway and leaves his weapon out in the car right where the police will find it? Does that make any sense to you?” She batted her eyelashes demurely.

“No,” he muttered reluctantly.

“And…you were watching the apartment building for over four hours prior to my client’s arrival?” she inquired, trying to sound unpresuming.

“Yeah,” Graham agreed, breathing a bit of a sigh of relief now that they were on safer ground again.

“Did you notice a phone booth on the corner of 59th?” she pressed.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “it was right out the window of my car.”

Elizabeth nodded slowly. “Did anyone use that phone while you were watching the victim’s apartment?”

He frowned. “I don’t…” He thought about it for a second. “No, I don’t think so,” he finally concluded.

“That’s interesting,” Elizabeth commented, seemingly to herself.

“What’s interesting?” Graham demanded curiously.

“It’s just that we ran all the LUDs, and it turns out that a call was made from that payphone at exactly 8:21 PM to the offices of Albrook, Harris, and Jenkins. The secretary, a Miss Harmony Kendall, took the call and got a tip to direct my client in the direction of Mister Worth’s apartment. Don’t you find that interesting? That whoever made that call had to have been right there while you were watching?”

Graham shifted uncomfortably. “I wasn’t paid to watch the phone,” he insisted sullenly.

“No, of course not,” Elizabeth assured him lightly. “You couldn’t possibly have known in advance that Mister Albrook would show up, could you?”

“Of course not,” Graham insisted readily.

“So, let’s move on to after you’ve made your arrest,” she continued.

“All right.” Graham was getting distinctly nervous now, as if realizing that this pretty young lawyer was a bit sharper than she at first seemed.

“You and Detective Gates collared my client… Who cuffed him, by the way?”

“Gates did,” he informed her crisply. “I stayed out of range with my weapon pulled in case Albrook tried anything funny.”

“Safety first,” she agreed with a smile. “And Detective Finn showed up then…”

“That’s right.”

“So, who went down to call in the ambulance?” she asked sweetly.

A fidget. “Detective Gates.”

“And he went down alone?”

“That’s right.”

Elizabeth’s lips set in a grim line. Officer Miller was obviously just your run-of-the-mill police officer. He did his job as best he could, and he followed orders. He didn’t seem to be overly bright, or he’d have known that he was exhibiting all the signs of an unpracticed liar. But big interrogations were left to higher-ranking officers, so he’d probably never been given the training in what to avoid. However, the man wasn’t stupid, and he had to know by now that she was on to him.

“Can I speak frankly with you?” she asked bluntly, dropping the false pretenses.

Graham almost looked relieved when she did so, as if he hadn’t been quite certain what to make of her before. “Whatever you want, counselor,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“This cover story – that Detective Gates composed, I suspect? – well, it’s not holding. The cracks are just getting bigger all the time, and IAB’s already investigating the department on the somewhat suspicious evidence in this case. We even figured out that trick about how to get prints on a gun while handcuffing a suspect.” She looked him squarely in the eyes, pausing until she’d caught his gaze before she continued. “I know you want to do what’s right,” she informed him, “but I also know you want to stand by Detective Gates. He’s a good cop, right?”

“The best,” Graham insisted vehemently.

“But you’ve got to think about what’s at stake here,” Elizabeth insisted.

“You think I haven’t?” Graham retorted defensively. “I’ve got a wife and three kids to worry about, a job, a reputation…”

“An innocent man who could very well be put in jail for something he didn’t do,” Elizabeth retorted. “You swore to protect the innocent. And what about my client’s friends and family? Are you really prepared to destroy all of those innocent lives? A-And William has a fiancée, you know, who loves him more than anything in this world and…”

* * *

 _The night before…_

“I’m going to have to meet with Officer Miller tomorrow,” Elizabeth whispered softly against the curve of Spike’s throat.

“Mmm…” he sighed, stroking her hair rhythmically. “Don’t go.”

“Hafta,” she countered with an apologetic smile, venturing to lean in and press her lips to his.

It was a bit odd, being like this, not quite together but definitely in love. Some professionalism was necessary to maintain their composure in the courtroom, and they’d fought to maintain a friendly distance over the past few days just so that they wouldn’t be distracted by the other’s proximity during the trial. At night after they came home, though, they inevitably moved ever closer until they reluctantly had to break their embrace to get some sleep for the next day.

Tonight, though, Elizabeth had an irrational fear that he was slipping between her fingers, and she clung tightly to him in response. The trial had become even more stressful to her now that she stood to lose everything all over again. But she wouldn’t give up these few moments they had together for the world.

“S’pose I can’t go with you, either, without my bail bein’ revoked…” He let out a weary sigh.

“Best not to risk it,” she agreed, fingers finding one flat male nipple through the material in his shirt and flicking her thumb over it teasingly.

A slight gasp escaped his lips, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight, jaw clenching. “You know what that does to me, pet,” he protested in a husky voice.

A sly smile lit up her face. “Yeah,” she agreed mock-innocently, “I do.” Her other hand slipped down to his thigh to trace archaic patterns on his jeans.

“’Lizabeth…” he began.

“Buffy,” she insisted. “Always Buffy to you.”

“Buffy,” he agreed with another sharp intake of breath, “’m quite sure you’re violatin’ the bar code of ethics in about a dozen ways right now…”

“How?” she countered with a wistful sigh of her own. “Husbands and wives represent each other all the time. I seriously doubt they put up a wall between them in the meantime.”

“S’pose it’s a bit different than the big bad lawyer seducing her poor defenseless client,” he teased lightly. “Making him pay his legal fees in sexual favors…”

She laughed at that. “Mmm, good idea,” she decided. “Could use a few sexual favors.”

He tisked good-naturedly. “Gonna have to report you, then. Can’t have you sullying my virtue, now can I?”

She gave him a coy smile. “I think I’ve already sullied your virtue,” she countered.

“No arguin’ with that…” He leaned forward to steal another quick kiss. “Still,” he broke off with a reluctant sigh, “’s not like we’re married.”

She cocked her head to one side, studying him intently and finding him as breathtaking as she had when their eyes had first met back in law school. A deep ache settled through her bones at the thought of her life without this man. Oh, she’d compensated for her loss, true, burying herself deep in her work. But that one piece had always been missing since they’d split apart, and now for the first time she realized just how important he was to her.

“What?” He squirmed slightly under her gaze, almost afraid of the powerful emotions he saw there. God, he loved her, but to see her look at him like that again… He hoped he wasn’t making a fool of himself in thinking that she still—

“Marry me,” she finally concluded.

Wide-eyed silence for a minute. Then, “B-Buffy, you don’t mean…?” he stammered out, sounding more like the shy, unsure William she’d first met.

“Sure, I do,” she agreed, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Since we never broke up, technically, we should still be engaged, right? So I’m all for making it official again. Marry me,” she repeated her request, brushing her lips across the edge of one cheekbone.

His eyes fluttered shut, and his arms tightened around her before he captured her mouth in a sweet, lingering kiss.

“Is that a ‘yes’?” she demanded pointedly, pulling away breathlessly.

“Could end up goin’ to jail,” he pointed out softly.

“I don’t care. I’ll be married to a convict, then,” she decided.

“But _I_ care,” he countered. “If I go away—”

An angry finger to his lips cut him off. “I’m getting you off,” she insisted. “Don’t you dare think otherwise.”

He sighed. “You know how fickle juries are, luv. Half the time they assume that if you’re arrested, you must be guilty.”

“Then this won’t even go to jury,” she concluded. “I’ll drag the truth out of the good old boy cop system if it kills me.”

“Buffy…”

“Please, William,” she whispered softly. “I just want it back. All of it. I _need_ you…”

A reluctant smile and a gentle kiss. “Consider yourself engaged, my love.”

A bright smile lit up her face, and she curled deeper into his arms. “I love you, too,” she whispered softly against his neck. “Always have, always will. You and only you.”

A hack sounded across the living room.

Spike’s eyes narrowed to where Angel seemed to be so innocently grooming. The cat merely stared back at him through intent, yellow eyes as if daring the human to try to call him on the insightful commentary.

“Thinking maybe we should move this away from prying eyes,” he informed Elizabeth softly.

She blinked up at him at that. “Naughty boy,” she scolded teasingly. “I have to go tomorrow to—”

A _very_ naughty hand found its way between her thighs and stroked the wet spot it found there.

Elizabeth’s words faltered, and she let out a heady moan.

“You were saying?” Spike whispered huskily into her ear.

“You don’t think,” gasp, “we’re moving a little fast?” Elizabeth inquired in response.

“Fast was you proposin’ to me. This…we’ve both been waiting for this for far too long…” he retorted matter-of-factly.

One small hand trailed down the center of his shirt, savoring the feel of the strong muscles beneath. She outlined each of his six abdominal muscles before her thumb hooked lazily in the front of his jeans, halting its descent for the moment. “Too long,” she agreed in a voice deep with desire. Then, she frowned. “And, wait a minute, _you_ proposed to _me_.” She pulled back slightly to fix him with a scowl.

He gasped in disbelief. “You just proposed to me all of five minutes ago!” he retorted.

“But that was just a follow-up to _your_ proposal to _me_ ,” she countered. “Remember, I even made you draw up that affidavit saying that you were the one who proposed so that we could have _one_ moment in our relationship that wasn’t ambiguous?”

“Yeah, back then,” he agreed. “But ‘s a whole different ballgame now, and you, most definitely, proposed _this_ time.”

A little giggle escaped her lips.

“What?” he demanded, mock-offended.

“You’re not going to let this drop, are you?” she inquired.

“Are you?” he retorted.

“Nope,” she assured him, feeling unusually giddy and light-headed. Free. It felt good to just joke around like this, and she hadn’t done it in far too long…

“Then,” he announced, suddenly rising to his feet and causing her to squeal and cling onto him as he lifted her up into his arms, “’m just gonna have to… _persuade_ you…” An evil leer crept upon his features.

“Maybe _I’ll_ persuade _you_ ,” she shot back, feet dangling casually in mid-air as he carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. “Although apparently it’ll be my sheets we’re trashing…” she commented wryly.

“Been staring down the hall at this door for weeks now, wishing I was invited back in,” he retorted, nudging the door open with his hip. He sent a scowl back in the direction of where Angel had followed them up the stairs and slammed the door in the cat’s face.

Angel remained nonplussed by this turn of events. Really, one day that human was going to have to learn that closed doors weren’t a hindrance to him in the slightest. But for now, he’d leave the pair be…

With an ‘oof’, Spike let Elizabeth fall back onto the bed, his own body quickly moving to cover hers. Her hands wrapped deep into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him close as their tongues met and mated. Without even the need for simple words, they began moving together, hands flitting over needy flesh, unsteady and fumbling over buttons and zippers, each overly eager in their pursuits.

“God, I want you so much,” Spike whispered against her hair, hands on her back beneath her blouse and fiddling erratically with the clasp of her bra.

“Want you, too,” she agreed, finally getting his zipper down and cupping his hardness with an almost reverent touch. “I think we’re going to need to…” she began.

He let out a reluctant sigh and sat back up, hobbling on one foot to pull his jeans off. He kicked his boots off as well, sending one of them flying under the bed. A muffled curse-word before he turned his attention to pulling his shirt off.

Elizabeth watched him disrobe through lazy, catlike eyes. He was so beautiful to her, and she’d spent so many nights dreaming about having him with her like this again…

“You gonna help out here, luv?” he teased lightly, watching her watch him with undisguised desire.

“Oh, um, yeah.” She blushed at being caught staring and pulled her blouse off, tossing it in the direction of the armchair. “I just…” Another blush. Nope, talking no good. She turned her full effort to getting out of her skirt and nylons.

Spike lay back on the bed beside her, fully nude, fascinated by her sudden shyness around him. Before she had always taken the lead in their lovemaking, his instructor in the arts of pleasure. Now… Well, he’d just have to show her that she was still that goddess that had first made him into a man.

“You’re so beautiful,” he purred, sidling up against her and pressing a soft kiss to the back of her neck.

Her fingers slipped on the toe of her nylons, and it took her several tries to finally get them off. “You’re the beautiful one,” she insisted, turning slowly in his arms and letting their naked bodies press together for the first time in years. “I…” She was struck speechless by the feel of the powerful muscles beneath her fingertips. A blush. “It’s been a while,” she confessed.

A little growl escaped his throat at her admission. “Time for you to lie back and enjoy the ride,” he breathed sensuously into her ear, twining his fingers with hers and leading her to lie down beside him on the bed.

Elizabeth felt her body relaxing as he began to trail kisses down her throat, along her collarbone, and then down still further. She let out an excited little gasp when his warm mouth first engulfed her breast, feeling the wetness between her legs begin to pool until she practically ached for his touch. “Please, William,” she sighed.

“Ready so soon?” He looked up at her quizzically, scarred eyebrow raised.

“Told you it’s been too long,” she agreed, reaching up with her free hand to cup his cheek.

He nuzzled gently into her touch before his free hand caught hers, guiding both her wrists so that they rested on either side of her head. He locked their hands tightly then as he moved over her, one knee pressing gently between her thighs, asking her to open herself to him.

For one moment, a pang of fear passed through her body. He was so much larger and stronger than her, and he had her effectively trapped. The shy boy she had once known was almost wholly replaced by a confident, sexual man now, and the notion was just a bit intimidating. But then he looked down at her with those same soft, soulful blue eyes that she had first fallen in love with, and the strange sensation passed. A soft smile curling her lips now, she spread her legs for him, allowing him to settle comfortably in the cradle of her hips, her ankles coming up to lock in the small of his back.

“Love you,” he assured her softly, finding her opening with the velvet tip of his cock and lining himself up carefully.

“I know,” she whispered back. “Love you, too…”

Their lips met in a frantic kiss just as, with one smooth roll of his hips, he plunged into her searing depths.

Elizabeth gasped into his mouth as she felt her inner muscles expand to accommodate his girth, stretching her out to her very limits before they contracted once more, squeezing tight around him.

“Fuck,” he whispered against her, eyes shut tight to keep himself from exploding right then. “F-Forgot how good you feel…” In his head, a perpetual mantra was repeating over again: _Wet, tight, hot, more!_ It didn’t take him long to give in and begin long, deep thrusts in and out of her slick passage.

Elizabeth let out a little whimper of need every time he left her body, only to inhale with a strangled gasp when he filled her once more. He wasn’t moving particularly fast, but every stroke was sure, hitting the pleasure spot deep within her. “So…deep!” she managed to cry out amidst her moans of ecstasy.

“You fit me so good,” he murmured in response, voice ragged with the effort of controlling his hips slow motions. “Like I was made off your mold…”

“Yes,” she hissed in agreement, her fingers tightening around his until her grip was almost painful, her hips writhing sensuously up to meet his thrusts.

“You like that?” he whispered seductively against her ear, picking up his pace slightly. He could feel that she was getting close.

“M-More,” she agreed.

“You like this?” He swirled his hips as he entered her this time, picking up the strength of his thrusts as he did so.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. Never, in all her life, had anything ever felt that good. She felt a momentary pang of jealous rage for whatever floozy had showed him that move, but then she banished the thought from her mind. God, she didn’t care about anything else in the world as long as he kept doing that…

“William!” she screamed out on the third rotating pulse.

He felt her body clenching around him, knew that was climax number one, and picked up his pace, ready to give her the big finish now. His balls practically ached in relief as he finally allowed himself to break free of his control and ravish her body.

“God, Buffy,” he gasped against her, stroking deep within her over and over again to accept her silken embrace. “God, I love you so much… My goddess, my first… I want you…always…love you…” Even words failed him as he felt his entire body tighten with impending orgasm.

Elizabeth managed to blink up at him blearily, falling down fast from the pleasure only to be jerked right back up to the peak again. “My love,” she breathed, “my William…”

“Yours,” he whispered back raggedly just as his balls clenched and his seed shot deep into her womb, overcome with ecstasy.

She clutched him to her as she came again, feeling like the two of them were crashing down together at breakneck speed, drowning in a sea of pleasure, and…

Blackness.

“Buffy?” A soft murmur in the dark that made her aware of her existence once more.

“Mmm?” she murmured contentedly. She felt his body shift off of hers, and she held onto him in objection, settling comfortably against his chest as he lay beside her.

“Love you,” he whispered lazily into her hair, feeling an overwhelming weariness take over his limbs.

“Love you,” she agreed, placing one soft kiss on his chest.

Already she could feel his breathing even out with sleep and, before she drifted off as well, the pestering thought stuck in her mind that she hadn’t been on any kind of birth control. The surprising thing was that that realization only caused her lips to curl in a smile as she fell asleep in his arms…

* * *

It wasn’t until the next morning that Elizabeth – still a bit sore-thighed – crept carefully out of bed, slipping free of Spike’s warm embrace and padding softly down the stairs. Angel, who had somehow found his way to the foot of the bed in the middle of the night, followed after, aiding her in her tasks for the day. She put the coffee kettle on and rubbed the sleep lazily out of her eyes, picking up the phone and hitting number six on her speed-dial.

“Rosenberg speaking,” a familiar voice informed her matter-of-factly.

“Hi, Willow,” Elizabeth yawned and pulled out one of the yogurts from her refrigerator.

On the other end, Willow’s eyes narrowed. “You,” she accused, “supposed best friend who a) takes up William’s case, b) according to rumors I heard – secondhand from Amanda at the DA’s, mind you – now has William living in her _house_ , and c) doesn’t even call me to spread the gossip. What could you possibly want?”

Elizabeth laughed at Willow’s mock-sullen manner. “I’m sorry, Wills, really, but it’s been a bit hectic lately what with—”

“You moving your ex back in with you?” Willow suggested.

“Yup,” Elizabeth agreed matter-of-factly, “that.”

“Oh,” Willow sighed, “all right then.” A sly smile lit up her face. “So, did you boink him yet?”

“Willow!” Elizabeth exclaimed, shocked. “I’m his _attorney_!”

“You did!” Willow squealed out her conclusion excitedly. “As good as you remember?”

Elizabeth’s face flushed a deep red. “I didn’t say…” She let out a weary sigh. “I promise to gossip all about it in a minute,” she changed the subject. “But I actually called you because I need some help.”

Willow’s brow furrowed at that. “How can I help your stud get off?” she asked curiously.

“You’re friends with Faith Vlore, right?” Elizabeth inquired.

“Yeah…”

“I need to borrow a stand-in attorney for the day,” Elizabeth said apologetically. “I’ve got something important to do, and William’s not qualified to stand by himself in court anymore.”

“Sure,” Willow agreed. “Faith’s offices are right down the hall. Hang on, I’ll check…”

Elizabeth heard Willow set down the phone and snacked at her yogurt while she waited for her friend to return from the other law-firm that shared the lease on their building. She was – not surprisingly – finding it difficult to concentrate on such seemingly mundane matters after what she and Spike had shared last night. Fortunately, she’d gotten plenty of training back in law school at working out legal matters while a warm, sexy William waited in her bed. Still, she was grateful that Willow wasn’t more than a minute.

“You’re in luck,” Willow announced brightly. “Faith’s got a clean slate today.”

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. “I would’ve called last night in advance but…” she trailed off.

“Last night?” Willow pressed with a knowing grin.

“Let’s just say that I was busy getting re-engaged,” Elizabeth admitted, a satisfied smile creeping up on her face.

“Seriously?” Willow exclaimed in amazement. “You’re actually going to get married this time?”

“That’s the plan,” Elizabeth agreed, practically beaming. “We’re thinking small civil ceremony, just the two of us…like before.”

“You’re inviting me,” Willow informed her matter-of-factly.

“Okay, fine. But only you,” Elizabeth insisted.

“Kennedy will want to come with,” she pointed out. “And then you can’t leave Giles out, and…”

Elizabeth mentally added the entire staff at Spike’s office as well and grimaced. “Small,” she insisted.

Willow agreed with a reluctant sigh. “So what’s up today that you’re leaving your future husband’s side? I would’ve thought proving he was innocent – which I knew all the time, by the way, despite certain stuffy ADAs that will remain nameless and Faith says seriously need to get laid… by her – would be your top priority.”

Elizabeth managed to work her way through Willow’s typically effusive syntax, got past the start of surprise that Faith was interested in Robin, and found the point. Nervously, she fingered the phone cord between her fingers. “It is,” she assured her friend.

“Then what’s happening today?”

“My last, best chance at proving William’s innocence,” she answered simply…

* * *

 _The present again…_

Elizabeth bit her lip and calmed herself, trying to force the emotion back out of her plea. She knew only too well that Graham was the only person likely to talk that could get these charges dropped early.

The officer merely studied her for a minute, surprised at how attached to her client she seemed. “This would get me kicked off the force,” he finally informed her.

“I know that,” she agreed, composed once more, “but it’s not like your life will be over. There are other possibilities. If my client is convicted…that’s pretty much it for the rest of his life.”

Graham couldn’t argue with that assessment. “You want me to turn on a friend,” he accused.

“I just want you to do what you think is right,” Elizabeth concluded. “Please…”


	8. Verdicts

ADA Robin Wood sent a scathing look in Faith Vlore’s direction. The defense attorney, not put off in the slightest, gave him a saucy smile and a little pat on the shoulder for his troubles. Not for the first time, Robin missed having Elizabeth in the chair beside him. Then, he could make some comment about juries never believing ballistic evidence again, and she would retort that everyone was too busy staring at Faith’s ass to actually listen to the questions. It was the little things Elizabeth did to cheer him that he missed most. Plus, such a comment would undoubtedly guilt-trip him enough that he’d stop staring at Faith’s ass himself. She gave him a coy wink as she sat down, and he gulped in response, refusing to fall for her usual bait.

“The prosecution calls Detective Forrest Gates,” Wood announced, rising from his chair.

However, at that moment, the doors at the back of the courtroom slipped open. It was done in a quiet and polite manner, but Faith had been waiting for just such an event. She turned to see that Elizabeth had just entered, and the two exchanged a quick nod.

“The defense requests a moment of consultation before the next witness is called,” Faith hastily announced.

Judge Greenberg raised an eyebrow at that. “Any objections?” he inquired of Wood.

Wood sighed. “Let them take all the time in the world,” he shrugged, curiously watching the defense table now.

Faith turned to where a very sullen looking Spike was sitting in the chair beside her. “Cheer up, gorgeous,” she encouraged him with a playful ruffle of his hair, “your sweetie’s back. And if we’re in luck, she brought evidence to clear up these charges.” Faith leaned eagerly over the wooden barrier than separated the audience seats from the defense at Elizabeth’s approach.

Despite his determination to sulk, Spike found himself rising as well, curious as to what Elizabeth had uncovered.

Elizabeth managed a shy, apologetic smile for leaving Spike to wake up alone that morning and inwardly promised to make it up to him later. Right now, lamentably, there were more important matters to take care of. “Object to the witness,” Elizabeth instructed Faith.

“On what grounds?”

“Suborning perjury,” Elizabeth instructed. “Try to get a counsel in chambers. We’ve got new evidence that makes this entire case moot.”

“That wanker talked, did he?” Spike commented with feigned disinterest.

“Robin’s reasonable,” Elizabeth agreed. “He’ll have to drop charges after he hears this.”

Faith nodded and turned back to the judge. “The defense objects to the next witness,” she announced bluntly.

Wood gave her a disbelieving look. “You want to try that with _all_ the prosecution witnesses?” he countered. “Because that’s one hell of a good way to make any case.”

“Language, counselor,” Judge Greenberg chided Wood. “And sarcasm.”

“Apologies,” Wood agreed hastily, “but the defense isn’t allowed to object to witnesses—”

“—Unless we have good reason to believe that they will commit perjury,” Faith finished.

“The defense doesn’t even know—” Wood began.

Faith cut him off again. “We have evidence that—”

“Stop,” Greenberg instructed, giving them both the evil eye, “before the jury’s completely corrupted, if you please.”

Wood and Faith both cut off their arguments.

“Now, how about we approach and discuss this in a civilized manner?” Greenberg suggested, gesturing for them both to come in.

“What’s this all about?” Wood demanded in a soft voice, once the three of them were conferring together.

“Officer Graham Miller has a statement to make,” Faith reported. “He will state that Detective Gates intentionally manufactured evidence against my client. In addition, he’s willing to swear that Detective Gates lied on the official police reports.”

Judge Greenberg sighed wearily. “I would hope the prosecution didn’t have foreknowledge of these allegations,” he said pointedly.

“Of course not—” Wood began in protest.

“Officer Miller’s testimony was only secured this morning,” Faith quickly intervened. “We didn’t have time to notify the prosecution until now.”

“Your Honor, I need to hear this new testimony before I can call Detective Gates,” Wood insisted. “I’d like to request a recess.”

“And I’d like it taken to chambers,” Faith countered.

Judge Greenberg gave her a curious look. “Any particular reason you think this won’t be a waste of the jury’s time?” he inquired.

“Given the allegations in this witness’ testimony, the defense cannot imagine that the prosecution will continue to pursue this case,” Faith clarified.

“It’s that good?” Wood asked skeptically.

“I don’t know,” Faith countered. “Elizabeth says so.”

Judge Greenberg looked to where Elizabeth was still waiting just in front of the audience. “Fine, chambers,” he agreed. “And get all the other players in there, too. I don’t want people hanging in from the sidelines.”

“Thank you,” Faith agreed with a bright smile before turning back to Elizabeth to make arrangements.

She quickly ducked out to fetch Graham, while Faith led Spike – and the bailiff who necessarily accompanied him – back to Judge Greenberg’s chambers. She quickly gestured for Spike to sit in one of the available chairs and smiled slyly at Wood when he pulled out a chair for her.

“This had better be good,” was all he said in response, taking his own seat.

Elizabeth entered the chambers through the office door only a few seconds later, Graham Miller firmly in tow. “Sorry, I’m late,” she said hastily, “but we had to come around back to avoid the crowds, and…” She took the seat next to Spike gratefully, venturing a small smile in her lover’s direction. Graham took the remaining seat.

“All right, Officer,” Judge Greenberg turned his attention to Graham, “you’ve got me curious. What’s this about an error in the police report?”

Graham’s emotions from earlier had vanished from his façade now, leaving the impression of a disciplined police officer. “Detective Gates and I lied in that report, Your Honor,” he answered in a firm voice. “Mister Albrook never had possession of the gun and arrived fifteen minutes after Mister Worth’s death.”

Spike raised an eyebrow at that, even though he had known it was the case all along. Whatever Elizabeth had said to make this bloke change his mind had obviously been quite effective.

“I see,” Judge Greenberg said matter-of-factly. “Then, why don’t you explain what did happen that night?”

Graham responded with a curt nod. “Detective Finn, Detective Gates, and myself were watching Mister Worth’s apartment in anticipation of his testimony against mob hitman, Mister Trick, which he was supposed to give the following morning. Around 8:30, we were starting to get hungry and bored. Detective Finn offered to go grab us some food and coffee. After he left, Detective Gates and I decided we couldn’t wait and headed off for the gas station just around the corner. We weren’t gone more than five minutes.”

“You left your post?” Faith demanded.

Graham’s face reddened, but he answered nonetheless. “Yes, ma’am,” he confessed. “Just as we were getting back…” He sighed. “We saw a car speeding away. It hadn’t been there before. Detective Gates was concerned so we went up to check on Mister Worth. He’d been shot dead, and the gun had been left beside him. Sometimes the hitmen do that, you know. Just to make sure that the gun is traced back to the Wilkins mob – sort of a warning to anyone else who might think about snitching…”

Judge Greenberg fixed Graham with a solemn frown. “This was before Mister Albrook even arrived?” he demanded pointedly, obviously none too pleased with this story.

Graham nodded. “I’m getting there,” he agreed. “Well, Forrest – that is, Detective Gates – and I both knew we’d blown it. We checked the gun for prints, and there were none. We guessed that the hitman silenced the gun because none of the neighbors had responded. So we’re sitting there, and I’m talking about how our careers are dead after a mistake like this. I mean, we even let the guy get away. And Detective Gates mentions that since no one heard the shots, no one even knows Worth is dead yet except us. And I say, yeah, but the body’s here and the murderer’s gone. And Detective Gates, real casual, asks what if we call someone else in to take the fall and catch _them_ in the act. We can’t do anything about Worth, but if we at least catch this guy…” He trailed off, embarrassed.

Up until this point, Wood had been listening to Officer Miller’s story quietly. Now, however, he couldn’t hold his disgust in any longer. “So you decided to make up some silly story?” he demanded harshly. “Jeopardize our _entire_ investigation of the Wilkins mob and give _every_ member we’ve convicted grounds for immediate appeal?”

“Forrest said this could never come out,” Graham insisted hastily. “He said…” A long sigh. “He said that Mister Albrook was as good as in Wilkins’ pocket the way he’d testified in the Trick case. And it didn’t really matter which of Wilkins’ lackeys we got, as long as we got one of them, right?”

“I don’t work for them!” Spike exclaimed in outrage.

Elizabeth quickly put a comforting hand on his arm, pulling him back down into his chair.

He calmed a bit at her touch, but kept his narrowed eyes focused on Graham, venom practically dripping from his gaze.

“Gates said it’d be like killing two birds with one stone. Albrook’s testimony in the Trick case would be gone, and we’d get off the hook for blowing it with Worth. I… I wasn’t sure, but Forrest said it was either him or us. He said he’d been trying to nail Trick for too long now to let that bastard get away. And I was scared and he was a superior officer, so… Yeah, he told me to call Albrook’s office and get him down there. Say it was an emergency so we could do this quick, before Finn got back.”

“You _lured_ him there?” Faith repeated incredulously.

Graham intentionally stared at the surface of the desk, avoiding the accusing stares that surrounded him. “It wasn’t my idea,” he insisted. “Gates… He made it sound like it was the only option.”

“What about the prints on the gun, then?” Wood demanded.

“Detective Gates rigged them while he was cuffing Albrook,” Graham squirmed uncomfortably. “He dumped the gun in Albrook’s car when he went out to call back up.”

“And why exactly didn’t you report all this before?” Judge Greenberg asked sourly.

Graham merely shrugged at that. The answer was obvious enough to everyone else, however. Police officers had often been known to defend their own over outsiders in the past.

Wood swore and covered his eyes with a weary hand.

“You’re dropping the charges, right?” Elizabeth demanded, speaking up for the first time. After all, she’d heard all these revelations earlier this morning. Her left hand continued to grip Spike’s forearm tightly, feeling the repressed rage shaking through his body and trying to quell its explosion long enough to get this all taken care of.

“This is going to have to go through IAB and…” Wood sighed. “We’re going to have to charge Gates with obstruction, lying to the police, dereliction of duty, not to mention…” He trailed off again. “You’re not coming out of this too well, either,” he informed Graham pointedly.

“I suggested that maybe the DA’s office would be willing to settle for taking his badge,” Elizabeth informed Wood somewhat apologetically. “Given that he did eventually come forward and all…”

Wood nodded. “And you’re testifying against Gates, right?” he demanded.

Graham nodded reluctantly.

“Make sure you get yourself a good lawyer,” Wood concluded before turning back to Elizabeth. “You do realize that I could pit Gates and Miller here against each other on the stand and let the jury sort it out.”

“Only if you believed in good faith that Gates wouldn’t perjure himself,” Elizabeth countered pointedly.

Wood sighed. “Double jeopardy means that if I drop this I can’t come back,” he reminded her.

Elizabeth merely raised one eyebrow.

“All right, fine, you’ve got your dismissal,” Wood informed her, “and I hope you’re ready to deal with all the hassles of trying a police detective compounded with keeping the Trick case from being thrown out.”

A small smile curved the edges of Elizabeth’s lips. “Gladly,” she assured him.

“We’re getting the rest of the day off?” Judge Greenberg inquired. “Good. It’s so nice to see attorneys behaving in a remotely reasonable manner.” He rose from his desk with a bit of a grunt. “Any objections to making this all formal right now?”

Head shakes all around.

“Then let’s get this mess over with,” Judge Greenberg concluded, “and,” he turned his attention to Graham, “I have _never_ heard of any officer of the court doing anything so reprehensible. You should be ashamed of yourself, and you’re just lucky _I’m_ not the one sentencing you…” With an angry twirl of his robes, he returned to the courtroom. Three attorneys, an exceptionally pissed off defendant, and a penitent police officer followed.

Elizabeth took up the additional defense chair and sat down beside Spike, her hand never leaving his arm the entire time.

“I believe we have a motion?” Judge Greenberg inquired once seated in his chair once more.

“We have, Your Honor,” Wood agreed, rising from his own seat. “Due to recent evidence uncovered in the course of the investigation into Howard Worth’s death, the prosecution at this time is dropping all charges against William Albrook.”

“Defense?” Judge Greenberg asked.

“No objections whatsoever,” Elizabeth announced, taking the job that technically should have been Faith’s for the day. No one minded, of course.

“Then, I am hereby dismissing all charges against the defendant, William Albrook, and releasing him from the custody of this court,” Judge Greenberg announced, turning back to the jury. “The jury is dismissed from this case, and court is adjourned.”

Elizabeth let out an audible sigh of relief as she and Spike rose from their seats. “Congrats,” she informed him softly.

“You said you’d get me off,” he replied matter-of-factly, jaw still ticking with anger. His eyes immediately set upon where Detective Gates was demanding Wood to explain what was going on. “’Scuse me a second, pet…” He headed off pointedly in the direction of the detective.

Elizabeth quickly chased after him. The last thing she needed was to have to defend him from assaulting a police officer…

“You, ponce,” Spike growled, coming to an angry stop only a few feet away from Detective Forrest Gates.

Gates turned to look at him in surprise.

“Next time wanna be more careful who your frame?” Spike added snidely. “Make sure they can’t defend themselves, am I right?”

“What are you—?” Forrest demanded.

Wood put a cold hand on his shoulder. “Your little plot is out,” he informed the detective tersely.

Forrest’s eyes widened for a second before narrowing on Graham. “You little snitch,” he accused. “You ratted out your own to protect this _filth_?” He gestured to Spike with a look of disgust in his eyes.

A low growl escaped Spike’s throat at that.

“If he hadn’t been boffing the DA, we would’ve had him,” Forrest continued, giving Elizabeth a look that made her feel downright dirty.

At that last insult, Spike finally exploded and dove for Forrest. Elizabeth had been anticipating such a move, fortunately, and managed to grab him from behind, her arms wrapped around him and pinning his own arms at his sides.

“We’ll get him,” she whispered against his back. “We’ll make him pay for what he did to you…”

Wood, meanwhile, had restrained Forrest. Two of the bailiffs swiftly approached. “Arrest this man,” Wood instructed them, “for obstruction of justice and tampering with evidence, to start.”

Forrest shot him a nasty look. “So, you let the punk go, huh?” he spat nastily as the two bailiffs restrained him. “Botch the investigation of the Wilkins syndicate more? No wonder none of my collars ever held with DAs like the two of _you_.” He saved an especially venomous look for Elizabeth. “You’re worse than the criminals,” were his parting words before he was dragged from the courtroom.

“There’s one cop who’s let his work drive him to the brink of insanity,” Faith commented dryly, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “Thanks for dragging me into this,” she commented to Elizabeth with a wry smile.

Elizabeth managed a tight one back from where she was still holding Spike back. “C’mon, let’s get out of here,” she encouraged him softly.

Some of the fight seemed to go out of him at that, and Elizabeth let him go. She almost regretted it when he abruptly turned on Graham, though. “’d be too ashamed to live with myself if I were you,” he hissed angrily before storming out of the courtroom.

Elizabeth gave the rest of her colleagues an apologetic smile. “His bark’s really worse than his bite,” she assured them, glancing off to where her lover had gone.

“Go, chase down your man,” Wood instructed with a little knowing smile. “I’m sure Faith can take care of the rest of this.”

Elizabeth cast him a grateful – albeit embarrassed smile – and departed as well.

Wood let out a weary sigh. “We’ve just quadrupled the amount of work that needs to be done,” he groaned.

Faith gave him a little pat on the small of his back, letting her hand linger there longer than was absolutely necessary. “How about I treat you to dinner, and we work out the final paperwork together?” she suggested, just a hint of seduction in her tones.

Wood managed a sly smile. “If you’re buying, I know a great French place down on fifteenth…”

“It’s a date,” Faith agreed, looping her arm through his as they left the courtroom together…

* * *

“Are you mad at me?” Elizabeth bit her lip as Spike shut the back door behind them. The entire drive back home he’d remained silent, never speaking a word to her.

He looked down at her curiously at that. “Why would I be mad at you, luv?” he asked softly, fixing her with a quizzical look.

She blushed slightly but felt a wave of relief rush through her nonetheless. “Because I left you alone this morning?” she suggested cautiously.

A soft smile lit up his face, and he caught her up in a loose embrace, brushing his lips against her forehead. “Not mad about that,” he assured her. “I get that you’ve got important stuff to do. Although if you make a habit of it…”

“I won’t,” she promised him, placing a short, sweet kiss on his lips.

“And just so long as you don’t leave me in Faith’s care again,” he countered, twirling his fingers lazily in her hair. “Missed havin’ you by my side today, y’know.”

She graced him with a radiant smile. “A small sacrifice to keep you out of prison permanently,” she assured him.

“Did a good job gettin’ that cop to talk,” he complimented her. “Care to share your secret?”

“No chance in hell,” she countered. “Can’t have you using my own tricks against me, now can I?”

He laughed at that. “Love you,” he whispered, giving her a heartfelt squeeze.

“Love you, too,” she agreed, one finger trailing up and down the strong lines of his chest. “You know, technically you probably don’t have to live here anymore. I mean, now that you’re no longer a suspect, the press are bound to leave you alone…” She trailed off pointedly.

“Want me to move out?” he asked with a knowing smile.

“Want you to stay,” she assured him.

“So you’re askin’ me to move in with you?” he demanded.

“Yup,” she agreed with a bright smile.

“Can I have an affidavit signed to that fact, so that when you randomly claim that it was _my_ idea to move in together, I can wave it in your face?” he teased.

Her eyes widened. “What are you talking about?” she joked back. “ _You_ just asked to move in with _me_!”

“God, you’re infuriating,” he informed her fondly, brushing an errant strand of blond hair back from her face.

“I know,” she assured him. “So…you’re moving in, right? Because, frankly, this house is _way_ too big for just me and Angel.”

“Surprised DAs get high enough salaries for a place like this,” Spike glanced around the high rafters of the living room.

“We don’t,” she assured him. “Mom left it to me after she…”

“’m sorry, pet,” he immediately laid a gentle kiss on her hair. Buffy’s mother had been the only other member of her family that he’d ever really liked, and vice-versa.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “It’s just… I wanted to keep the house. A little piece of her, and maybe a place I could start my own family some day…” She kept her eyes lowered at that part.

A cocky smile spread across his lips at that, and one hand came to rest possessively on her stomach as if claiming his place within her. “Just going to hafta stick around then and help you with that,” he concluded. His lips brushed her ear seductively. “Wanna work on it right now?”

She felt an excited little tingle run down her spine. “You gonna carry me up to bed again?” she teased lightly.

“And break my back?” He let her go long enough to take her hand and guide her upstairs.

She mock-pouted. “I’m not that heavy,” she retorted.

“No,” he assured her, “you’re perfect.”

Their lips met for a deep, sensual kiss right outside the door to Elizabeth’s room. Elizabeth’s fingers found their way into his dark locks, and she briefly fantasized that they were the platinum he favored now. “Get your hair back to normal, and you’ll be perfect, too,” she concluded.

An evil smirk curled his lips. “Want me to go off and bleach it now?” he teased.

She pulled him back into her room. “Need you now,” she insisted, falling back onto the bed. “Need to show you how much I love you…”

He kicked off his shoes and joined her on the mattress, lying on his side so that they could share kisses and caresses as they moved together beneath the sheets.

With a contented sigh, Elizabeth nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck, squeezing her eyes shut tight and breathing in his distinctive scent. One hand lazily trailed up and down his spine, and she pressed herself to him, enjoying the feeling of his strong arm around her waist and his gentle fingers in her hair…

“Buffy?” Spike ventured to ask softly when she hadn’t altered her strokes for some time.

He got a soft snore in response.

“Poor little angel’s been wearing herself out takin’ care of me,” he whispered against her hair. “Don’t worry, pet. ‘S time I returned the favor…” With a contented smile of his own, he hugged her closer and prepared to enjoy an afternoon napping in her arms…

And then one eye cracked open.

“I know you’re there, and you’re not interruptin’ anything, so you might as well show your ugly face,” Spike announced.

Angel leapt up onto the bed, tail twitching at being called ‘ugly’.

“Yeah, yeah,” Spike rolled his eyes, waiting for Angel’s approach. “Well, don’t just sit there brooding,” he finally exclaimed in annoyance.

Angel paused for a moment, debating the joys of sinking all twenty-eight claws into the aggravating human. However, that would undoubtedly disturb the warm, comfy bed. Giving in to the foolish creature this time, he stalked haughtily up the bed until he’d found a comfortable, warm place between the humans’ bodies and settled himself down for a good nap.

Spike, in a moment of uncharacteristic affection, patted the great beast on the head. _His family…_ The thought wasn’t at all unappealing. And, with a yawn as wide as Angel’s, he too settled down to sleep contentedly…

* * *

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

The happy couple met in an enthusiastic kiss, and the audience cheered as the marriage vows were completed.

In the first row, Elizabeth gave Spike a shy smile, and he returned it with a squeeze to her hand. They both knew how big this was. Now that Anya was finally happily married, she would no longer oppose their own wedding on grounds that they were “trying to steal my spotlight.” A small, private ceremony had already been scheduled that Saturday. Elizabeth and Spike were both counting the days.

Soft musical strains filled the lodge, and Elizabeth leaned over to rest her head on Spike’s shoulder, savoring the moment. Her contented introspections were almost immediately interrupted by the loud sobbing behind her.

“It’s so sad!” Harmony wailed into her tissues, watching Xander and Anya dancing. “An agency with two attractive, single men, and now they’re both going to be married! To someone other than me!” She burst out bawling again and collapsed onto the nearest male body in tears.

Unfortunately, said body happened to belong to Giles, and the older man fumbled nervously with the young secretary, sending a pleading look Spike and Elizabeth’s way.

The pair exchanged a look and a snicker. “Next dance is comin’ up, luv,” Spike informed Elizabeth, giving Giles a shameless wave as he led her off.

Elizabeth managed to laugh into her hand as she followed her fiancé’s lead over to the dance floor.

Left alone, Giles looked at the crying blond beside him in despair. “There, there?” he ventured hesitantly.

Harmony’s sniffles abated slightly. “You have a law firm, right?” she asked, voice still ragged.

“Um…yes,” Giles agreed, gratefully returning her fully to her seat.

“So, I bet you’ve got all sorts of attractive lawyer bachelors working for you…” Harmony added thoughtfully.

Giles scanned around frantically for an escape route.

“I don’t suppose you need a secretary?” Harmony inquired, batting her eyelashes now…

Spike chuckled into Elizabeth’s hair as he watched Giles flee faster than he ever would had thought the older man capable of running. “Looks like we’re gonna need to find a new secretary…if all the bad press doesn’t completely put me out of business, that is,” he added ruefully.

“Are you kidding?” Elizabeth countered. “You’re famous now. I’m willing to bet you double your fees.”

He sighed. “Great, just what I need: morbid clients.”

“Aren’t they all?” Elizabeth countered.

“Nasty business sometimes,” he conceded, “though I can’t imagine yours is much better.”

“I get the baddies at the end of the day,” she countered. “Or, I will as soon as I go back to work…”

“And you’re sure that ponce of a boss isn’t gonna put you on shit detail once you go back?” Spike countered teasingly.

“Robin’s been too busy drooling over Faith of late to hold a vendetta,” she assured him. “Besides, I can take anything he’ll throw at me. I have a feeling two weeks of honeymoon will have me nice and… _relaxed_ …” She practically purred into his ear.

“Get me all nervous goin’ on like that,” he teased. “Already about as giddy as I was when you first asked me out.”

Elizabeth scowled at him. “I’m quite sure we finally established that _you_ first asked me _out_ ,” she countered.

“We did establish it,” he retorted, “only the other way around.”

“No, we didn’t,” she countered, wide-eyed at the gratuitous lie.

“Yes, we did,” Spike retorted.

“Didn’t.”

“Did.”

“Didn’t.”

Their bodies had inched closer with each denial until they stood nose to nose, both their faces flushed with enjoyment at the argument.

Spike shifted uncomfortably in his suit. “Wanna get out of here?” he inquired pointedly. “Head back home and—”

“It’s your best friend’s wedding,” she chided him lightly.

He sighed. “Right. So, Saturday, right?” he asked eagerly.

“Saturday,” she agreed with a soft smile, resting her head on his shoulder as she watched Xander and Anya dance across the floor. For one instant, the crazy notion to have a big wedding of her own flashed through her mind, but then she wisely remembered Anya’s five-hour description of the necessary planning and shook the notion off. All she wanted was William as quickly as she could have him, with no fuss.

“Can hardly believe ‘s finally going to happen,” he whispered softly against her hair, watching the newlyweds as well. “Seems like ‘ve been waiting forever…”

“No, _I’ve_ been waiting forever,” Elizabeth teased.

He laughed at that. “God, I love you, Buffy,” he said with a wistful sigh.

She smiled as the music changed. “Love you, too,” she agreed. “Now, c’mon, they’re playing our song…”

“We have a song?” he demanded skeptically.

She rolled her eyes. “Just c’mon,” she instructed him, a seductive smile on her lips. “You know you wanna dance with me…”

He took her offered hand and pulled her body up tight against his. “Always,” he agreed in a husky whisper…


	9. Epilogue

“The people request remand without bail, Your Honor,” Elizabeth announced in a crisp voice, sorting through the papers before her. “The defendant is a mob boss in the Wilkins crime syndicate. I’m sure I don’t need to remind the court that the last nine members of this organization who were granted bail promptly fled the country.”

“There’s no official evidence that such a syndicate even exists!” the defense attorney protested. “The prosecution can’t use criminal conspiracy theories and the behavior patterns of other individuals my client has never even met to—”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Mister Carter,” Judge Weisman retorted, staring down at him under the rims of her glasses. “Ms. Albrook is right. The defendant is to be held without bail. Next docket.”

The corners of Elizabeth’s lips twitched upwards. Even after six months, the last name still sent a little tingle down her spine.

“Don’t smile yet, Elizabeth,” Carter informed her, dropping several papers in front of her. “Mister Fitch denies having even heard of Mister Trick. That, and all the evidence against him was obtained through an illegal search.”

“Warrants are illegal now, are they?” Elizabeth retorted sarcastically with a falsely cheerful smile.

“We’re contesting the validity of the warrant,” Carter instructed her, watching as his client was led off to the holding facility. “There’s no way you’re going to hold this indictment. Have a nice day.” He gave her an equally false smile before stalking off.

Elizabeth moved aside to allow the next docket to be called, arranging everything neatly before putting it all into her briefcase. The persistent smile that had threatened to overcome her all day finally broke, and she walked from the courtroom with a little swagger.

Robin Wood and Detective Finn met her outside. “Bail?” Wood asked anxiously.

“Remand,” Elizabeth assured him, handing over the motion she’d just received. “Carter wants to question the search warrant.”

“Typical,” Wood commented with a roll of his eyes.

“Everything’s clean on this one,” Riley assured them both. “All ‘I’s dotted and ‘T’s crossed.” He ventured a pleasant smile in Elizabeth’s direction. The fact that she’d broken the case against his partner had strained their friendship, but their working relationship was cordial again now, and perhaps all hard feelings would disappear with time. After all, not even loyal Riley Finn could deny that his partner had done some pretty nasty stuff.

“Good,” Wood agreed. “We’ll want to go over everything with a fine-toothed comb again just to make sure. You available Tuesday morning?”

“I’ll fit it in,” Riley answered.

“Have we gotten Trick to make a statement yet?” Elizabeth demanded information on the other end of the investigation.

“Sooner or later he’s bound to realize that Wilkins is slowly cutting him off,” Wood assured her. “It’s only a matter of time before he cracks on something.”

“All right, then,” Elizabeth concluded with a smile. “You don’t need me this afternoon?”

“So you can sleep with the enemy?” Wood teased.

“ _I’m_ not the one having the steamy affair with a certain brunette defense counsel,” Elizabeth shot right back.

Riley gave Wood a speculative look at that. “ _You’re_ sleeping with the enemy?” he joked.

Wood huffed. “None of your business, detective,” he countered.

“So I’m off?” Elizabeth persisted hopefully.

“You’ve got your half-day off,” Wood assured her. “I’m presuming it’s worth it?” He fixed her with a curious look.

“I’ll let you know tomorrow,” Elizabeth refused to let the cat out of the bag.

“We can’t push our luck?” Riley teased lightly, a bit of their old camaraderie coming through in his tone.

“You’re both lucky I convinced William not to indict you for malicious prosecution,” she joked right back.

“There’s no grounds—” Wood began automatically.

“He’s convinced that the fact that the two of you check out my butt is grounds enough,” Elizabeth retorted with a wink.

Riley blushed and looked pointedly away, while Wood chuckled. “You can tell your husband that my appreciation of your figure is completely respectful,” Wood shot back with a smile.

Elizabeth laughed as well and gave them a final wave before exiting the courthouse. It was a warm spring day outside, and Elizabeth wound her way slowly through the park, enjoying the feel of the sunshine upon her skin. She caught sight of a familiar platinum head and walked over to the park bench, sudden giddiness threatening to overtake her.

“Happy to see me, luv?” Spike asked in a husky voice, admiring her approach and rising to his feet to meet her.

She caught him in a passionate embrace and pressed her lips to his, her tongue sliding sensuously along the lines of his mouth, urging him to open up to her. He did so willingly, and soon their tongues were joined in a fierce dance, making love the only way they could in such a public setting.

Spike finally pulled back to gasp for air, resting his head atop hers as they remained locked in their embrace. “’ll take that as a ‘yes’, then?” he said lightly, closing his eyes at the wonderful feel of her fingers twining through his hair.

“Very much yes,” she assured him, holding him tight. “I’ve got something I have to tell you, William…”

The seriousness of her tone caught him by surprise, and he pulled away slightly to look at her. “What?” he asked, somewhat anxiously.

“Well, I snuck in an appointment at the doctor’s this morning…” she began.

His hand instantly went to her forehead, concerned about some of the strange symptoms she’d been exhibiting lately. “’S nothing, right?” he asked, worried.

Her face flushed. “Not exactly,” she corrected, taking hold of the hand at her forehead and guiding it to her still-flat stomach.

He blinked at her blankly a couple of times. “’S not serious, is it?” he demanded, not catching the hint.

She rolled her eyes. “Remember how we’ve been trying?” she hinted, pressing his hand more firmly against her belly.

One _really_ slow blink. And then his eyes widened. “You’re—” he managed to gasp out.

“William!” Elizabeth called out in alarm, catching him up against her for balance as he swayed on his feet.

He shook his head, getting over the momentary giddy dizziness. “You’re…” he said again, a grin slowly splitting his face as well. The hand on her stomach rubbed in an affectionate circle.

“Carrying a little William,” she agreed with a laugh.

“You mean a little Buffy,” he corrected automatically before leaning in and capturing her lips in another molten kiss, effectively preventing any further argument on the subject.

She melted into his embrace as they laughed between kisses, and even as the clouds burst into another of the day’s sporadic showers above them, a sense of completion settled over her like nothing she’d ever felt before.

“Better get you inside,” Spike insisted, sheltering her from the rain with his coat. “Don’t want you catchin’ cold in your condition…”

Elizabeth chose to remain charmed by the concern for the moment. She’d wait until he went overboard before bitching him out for over-protectiveness. And, given all her husband’s other tendencies, she had no doubt that he’d go Neanderthal with the best of them. For now, though, it was sweet.

“Let’s go home,” she agreed, lips whispering against his throat. “I’ve got the entire afternoon off, and I think the two of us deserve some time together to celebrate…”

“’S only fair,” he agreed, pressing a tender kiss into the hair of the woman he loved and marveling that, after all that gone wrong in his life over the past years, everything was finally right.


End file.
